


His Angel

by CeruleanNightHawk



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Child Abandonment, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Humanized Shinigami, M/M, Organized Crime, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanNightHawk/pseuds/CeruleanNightHawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At age six, his parents left him.</p><p>At age eleven, a classmate pulled a knife on him.</p><p>Near is fifteen years old now, but he has yet to experience love. And after a gang of bullies at his latest home accomplish all but breaking him in half, Near is convinced that he’ll never find such a thing.</p><p>He almost ends it that night. But a mysterious leather-clad outsider won’t let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Biography Account

**Author's Note:**

> Trying something new this time!
> 
> I've always been a hopeless romantic, and a sucker for painful backstories, and let's face it, we all enjoy a little smut once in a while, so all of that can and will be found in this new crazy story of mine. I do have another fic on the Archive titled "Heir to the Throne" that I may or may not put on hiatus to focus more on this, but I don't know; we'll see how everything goes.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! ;)

Some days, I feel like there’s no one left in this world to reject me.

First were my parents. Few are the good memories of my mother and father. They fought about everything—who spent that dime that was under the couch, who cheated on who with the mailman, whose fault is was that the sun rose. They were young and foolish; they couldn’t seem to handle much of anything that required adulthood. I was barely six, yet I knew it was only a matter of time for my small family.

I watched through the bedroom window as it finally shattered. It was July 27th, 2003, at 9:13 PM. My parents dragged their bags with them to the sidewalk by the street, holding each other’s free hands all the way. They turned to each other, shared a passionate farewell kiss, and parted ways. I never saw them again.

 

The next three months of my life were spent by myself in a huge and empty house. I walked the seven miles to and from school, and I bought groceries from the convenience store around the corner. When the dimes under the couch ran out, I mastered the arts of theft and pickpocketing. I figured out in a matter of weeks how I’d provide for myself, and I was only in the second grade. I never took bills into account until three men in suits came to lock up the house.

Yes, I knew that foreclosure was a thing. Yes, I saw it coming. But you better believe I still put up a fight. Hell, they were trying to throw me out of the only home I’d ever known. I didn’t need any more chaos in my life than that which my parents initiated.

At least I had the pity of other adults who wanted to help this poor genius orphan. A group of them put their wallets together and paid in full my tuition for a highly competitive boarding school: To-Oh Prep. The academy prided itself on a fast-paced, rigorous curriculum that produced attendance rates in Ivy League schools of over ninety percent. I, however, didn’t understand the hype; I excelled with relative ease and skipped several grades in the process.

But I was alone in that rite. I maintained my title as top student in the school for five years, by a landslide. Let’s just say at least a dozen of my peers would kill for my throne. And tried.

It started with cliques leaving death threats on my door. Then they got serious and started ganging up on me in the middle of the night. As the years progressed, my classmates got older and older than me, and they continually exploited their physical advantage. On September 26th, 2008, barely a month into the tenth grade, I returned to my dorm after dinner, and a demon jumped out from under my bed.

He was a twelfth-grader, with crazy eyes and fiery bloodlust. He pinned me to a wall and held a switchblade to my throat. That young man vowed to graduate with my title if it was the last thing he did. I was eleven years old… and I almost died at his hands.

I struggled against his strength as he went on and on about all he had to prove to the world. Or some individual who might as well have been the world. In any event, I couldn’t make sense of his impassioned screaming, and it terrified me. But I made use of it; while the young man was distracted, I bit his arm, kicked him in the crotch, and ran to the nearest adult’s office.

Administration was informed of the incident, and ten days later I was transferred out of the academy. To this day I have no idea what happened to my attacker. Not that I ever cared; I was just happy to be guarded at all hours until I left, so that nobody could touch me.

 

A few days after the knife scare, once a story was run in the news, the principal received a phone call from a man named Watari, whom he’d never heard of. He managed an orphanage that doubled as an academic institution for gifted children. Wammy’s House, he named it. This Watari man knew I was special the moment he finished reading about my achievements. He said, and I quote, that he would be honored to provide me with a safe home. The principal signed me up straight away, and I started packing.

I fell in love with this place instantly. Watari gave me a new identity, killing my old one and all the heartache that went with it. He promised me a bright future where I could use my skills to heal this planet. Ordinarily I would’ve been reluctant to believe such things, but Watari had that old, wise look in his eyes that left me no choice. I was reborn, feeling more powerful and in control than ever.

I became the most intelligent student to ever grace the halls of Wammy’s House.

But this place carried its own special brand of hostile environment. Not quite like my parents’ house or To-Oh, but still very unpleasant. Some of my peers couldn’t have cared less how well I was doing. They were holding a private contest to see who could come up with the most creative ways to torture me. Generally, they had two targets of preference, one I happened to already despise and one that I’d just recently discovered. The vile words that left their mouths sometimes…

They tore me to shreds.

September 13th, 2012. 8:35 AM. It was quiet out in the hall, a vacant space. I was on my way to the kitchen, planning to grab breakfast and take it up to my room so I didn’t have to deal with anyone. I didn’t sleep well the previous night, and as a result I was not in the mood for human interaction.

“Pajama day again? How come nobody ever _tells_ me anything?”

Inadvertently, I’d stopped in my tracks. BB’s dark, brooding voice did that to me and I hated it.

He popped out from behind me and parked himself in my path, leaning one elbow against the wall and smiling crookedly down at me. He also sported a constant raven rat’s nest and wild black eyes, which made him look even scarier.

“Seriously, where’d you get those?” BB continued. “Are potato sacks in style right now?”

“Sure.” I had gotten so used to comments like this that all I could do was roll my eyes. “I just like to wear clothes that I can breathe in.”

A laugh was thrown in my face. “Stop lying!”

I stared blankly at him.

“Near, you could wear a shirt ten times as big and I’d still be able to count your muffin tops.”

I pretended not to feel that stab wound.

“Hell, I wouldn’t touch that with a hundred-foot pole…”

“Good. Then don’t.”

I tried walking past BB, but he grabbed me by my shoulder and slammed me into the wall. Now he wore the satisfied sneer of a madman.

“But you want me to.” The sneer morphed into disgust. “Poor little gay slut can’t keep his head out of the gutter, can he?”

Comments like this one I will never get used to.

“Who the hell told you I was—?”

“I guessed.” BB snickered. “You know you’re not the only genius in this house, _Nate River._ ”

It took everything in my power not to respond as my tormentor shoved me to the ground and stalked away. Nobody was supposed to know my name. Nobody was _able_ to know my name, so how the hell did he…?

I lost interest in the question almost immediately. I punched the wall and choked on my sobs.

 

Such was my life: daily BB would test a new set of insults on me, and when he’d succeed at getting to me he’d rush off to tell his followers scores of epic tales. He spawned plenty of copycats who worked harder than they did in class to please their leader. Though I can’t say that anyone truly loved BB. It was more like fear of his wrath, submissiveness to avoid it.

I don’t blame any of them. That said, don’t for a second mistake this for forgiveness.

September 21st, 2012. 1:25 AM. I hit my head on the nightstand and woke five feet from my bed. That distance continued to grow; someone was dragging me away by my left arm.

“Guess who?”

I’m sure I imagined this in a fit of hysteria, but it looked like BB’s eyes were glowing red in the darkness. I blinked and they returned to normal, if soulless ebony can be considered normal.

I seized one leg of my work desk with my right arm and pulled as hard as I could. BB held fast, and in that moment I hated every ounce of my physical weakness. He laughed the word “pathetic” and practically tossed me out of my bedroom.

I was caught somewhere between fear and rage. That’s the world’s greatest recipe for an irrational mind. I struggled to shove it all somewhere it wouldn’t bother me, so I could figure out where the hell BB was carrying me off to.

“It’s a surprise, dumbass.”

“Said number five to number one.”

“You won’t be once I’m done with you.” He twisted my ear almost all the way around. “No tears tonight, little bitch? Is Imaginary Boy Toy coming to save you?”

I knew trying to fight against BB now was waste of energy, so I hung limply over his shoulder until we arrived on the fourth floor balcony. There three other boys were waiting for him, his three most faithful lap dogs. Danny and Russ were the vicious giants. A was their shadow, passive and compliant. Whatever they asked of him, he did it. Humiliating, yes, but it’s better than being on my end.

BB dropped me on the concrete floor, and I groaned in pain. It was freezing outside for an early fall night. I wanted my bed back, but I knew I couldn’t outrun anyone. I was stuck, weighed down by exhaustion, and BB said, “Very well, gentlemen. Tie him up.”

Danny and Russ had chains. They locked my arms to the rungs of the guardrail, as far as they would stretch. I brought my knees to my chest and stared at one spot on the floor. I focused on shoving panic out of my heart and into a dark corner…

BB towered over me, flanked by his comrades. He sighed.

“Near. The great Next. Successor to L… look at you.”

Russ chuckled under his breath. Danny’s spitball landed in my hair. A did nothing.

“They’re gonna send you off to the army, and you can’t even fight!” Danny cackled.

I allowed myself a half-smile. “L doesn’t need to fight. He’s too intelligent for that.”

“So what, are we too violent for the position?”

Russ shook his head. “You may have won the IQ contest, Near. But what about tactical smarts? What about tenacity? What about balls?” He shoved his boot between my legs and rubbed my crotch in circles. “I don’t feel any…”

Russ kicked me, and Danny bust up laughing. A did nothing.

“Good point,” BB purred. “Let’s test that theory, Russ.”

The three boys turned to A, waiting. A did nothing.

“Go on. Do it well enough and I won’t judge if you like it.”

A squeezed his wrist and took a shaky step forward. Silly of me to think that he’d never be a target.

Russ knelt down beside me. “Here, let me make it easy on you,” he said as he forced my legs straight. He slid off my pants, and Danny ripped the shirt off my back. I cursed the chains about my wrists as Russ finally stole my boxers from me. They moved away, and BB pushed A into my lap.

I almost lost my composure. Every wisp of the wind chilled my bare skin. Clearly it wasn’t enough that I was already shivering with humiliation and fear. And the slightest twinge of sick anticipation. Whoever told BB about my small crush on Number Two had to die.

Grabbing my cock seemed to be the hardest part for A. After that, it shocked me how skillfully he worked its length. His slender fingers massaged it up and down, his thumb occasionally brushing the head. And A wasn’t even watching what he was doing. He just shut his eyes and drank in the feeling, struggling to stifle moans of pleasure.

As was I. For whatever reason, A touching me felt ten times better than it did when I touched myself. He sent endorphins racing; I could barely keep still. Danny nudged him, and he took a deep breath before leaning over to nip at my neck and chest. A left a slow, sensual trail of kisses along my entire upper body. He was too good at it. I almost started wondering where he got his practice.

Almost. But as A brought me closer and closer to completion, it became impossible to think about anything. BB and Russ and Danny all faded into nothingness, but not the sex angel in my lap. Holding in my elation was becoming a labor, so I quit. I, of all people, forgot that others might be able to hear my shouts through the nearby windows. A hushed me by smashing his lips into mine. He smothered them with his tongue until I granted him entrance.

The next minute was a thick orgasmic haze. I writhed uncontrollably, clutching the rails behind me for balance. My hips developed a mind of their own and bucked rapidly into A’s thighs. I didn’t slow down until after my climax. That six-second orgasm felt like fireworks going off beneath my flesh. The boy removed his hand, leaving my penis to stand on its own. A thick stream of semen coated my legs and groin. And all of it escaped my perception.

That is, until the rest of the world rematerialized.

A looked like someone had shaken him from a daydream. My other tormentors were frozen with shock. I was shaking and panting and limp, and I was happy for that. No way could I fight any of them like this…

_Like this… oh, gosh, I’m a mess…_

BB pinched his chin with his fingers, his sneer slowly resurfacing. “Damn… I thought you were kidding, Danny, but… wow.”

“Told you he’s a pillow biter,” he proudly proclaimed. “What _I_ can’t believe is that A’s attracted to his fat ass!”

“I guess he likes little chaste boys. Near jerked off so fast you know A was his first time.”

BB and Danny snickered, backing up to make way for Russ. I could feel the hatred burning beneath his eyes. He looked as if it was all he could do not to vomit right there.

“You poor little virgin. I’d feel sorry for you, except I _never_ feel sorry for faggots. You shameless sods all make me _sick._ ”

He kicked me as hard as he could in the side, knocking the wind out of me. Before I could catch my breath, he kicked me again. For a solid minute, Russ assaulted me until that whole strip of skin was black and blue. Only then did he unchain me, and the boys marched off to their quarters. A glanced over his shoulder at me, but BB’s grip on his arm was stronger than his own will.

That evening I snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was done with BB, and all of his lackeys, and all of their bullshit. This was no way to live; either they’d have to leave or I’d have to get rid of them myself. But there was no way in hell I’d kill them. It was never my style to get my hands dirty, and it never will be. Running away wouldn’t work either; I’d have a panic attack if I stayed in the city alone. To be honest, back then I feared everything that required active confrontation with forces greater than myself.

Compared to that, resigning myself to an endless dark abyss didn’t sound so bad.

September 21st, 2012. 10:13 PM. I hiked approximately five miles from Wammy’s House into the surrounding countryside. There was a river that ran through a forest not far from the city. Buried deep in the thicket, I was ninety-six percent certain that nobody would interrupt me. Out of the small satchel that I brought with me, I pulled out the knife that I stole from the kitchen.

I looked up at the sky, at the last night, at the last full moon I’d ever see. I’d miss that much about this planet, I admitted to myself. At least nature was kind to me during my stay.

 _Of course._ So to repay it, I’d return myself to it.

I shut my eyes and swayed to the song of the stream. I took at least twelve deep breaths, but after that I stopped counting. Slowly, I brought the silver blade to my neck. “It’ll be over in a minute,” I whispered to my trembling hands. “Nobody will miss you.”

_Three…_

The wind howled, long and low.

_Two…_

Bare branches danced in the gale.

_One—_

Just as I pressed the knife to my flesh, it was ripped violently from my fist. I opened my eyes and found the thief standing above me. He cut his palm with the blade but showed no signs of feeling pain. Dressed all in black, his pale skin and golden hair glowed in the moonlight. Like some mysterious spirit of the night, a spellbinding angel of darkness.

He told me his name was Mello.


	2. The Rescue Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I got a much greater response to this fic than I expected. Kudos, bookmarks, and more than five hits, all in just a few days! Thanks so much for the support, guys! I should be getting plenty more of it now that I know what you sickos want... (*cue nefarious laughter*)
> 
> Seriously speaking, though, I have a whole lot of crazy shit planned for this story, but first, I must introduce the mystery that is Mello. Enjoy!

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with knives, kid?”

I shook my head and blinked a few times, just to make sure this person was actually there.

“Where did you come from?”

For the first time I noticed a narrow path through the foliage behind me. Greatly unobvious, but there. And it was definitely man-made, the result of cutting down plants and trampling others underfoot.

The stranger shrugged. “Somewhere with walls; I honestly don’t remember.”

My attention shifted back to the blood. “Your hand…”

He moved the knife into his uninjured hand and stared down at the gash in his palm. “I’ll wrap it up later.” The boy knelt down by the stream, letting the currents cleanse his wound. “Oh, thank God it’s fresh water.”

Something about his voice sent shivers down my spine.

“Who _are_ you?”

“Mello.” The stranger turned to face me. “Call me Mello.”

I nodded absently, trying to figure out why that name sounded familiar…

Mello smiled sadly. “Man, the one night I decide to show up here, and this happens. Crazy luck, huh?”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to.

Was it?

Mello walked over and sat beside me in the grass. For a long while we were silent, gazing off into the trees. He took out a chocolate bar and licked it before taking a bite. He offered me a piece, but I politely declined. The breeze chilled the tears that pricked my eyes.

“Believe it or not,” Mello finally said, “I’ve been where you are. I can almost see it in your eyes, how much you’re hurting.”

I didn’t notice him literally staring into my eyes until he said that. It calmed me and gave me jitters all at the same time.

Mello’s next words fell into the river. “…I almost hung myself once.”

I saw that one coming, but I couldn’t keep myself from gasping.

Mello curled up into a ball and hardened his features. I think he cursed himself for allowing that to slip. “Long story short: life threw me too many curveballs and I almost let cowardice win. But a crazy stroke of fate not unlike this one saved my ass. I remembered my own strength and all that I had to fight for.”

I stared blankly at the spark of hope in his eyes, trying and failing to relate.

Mello noticed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He practically jumped on top of me, seizing my shoulders and twisting me around. “Come on, _somebody_ out there is worried shitless about you right now. No matter what you might say.”

That’s when I noticed the painkillers I took were beginning to wear off, and sharp pains sprang up from my bruises. I shut my eyes and sighed. _Well, it’s not like he can read your mind, Near._

“My parents took off just before second grade. I got shipped off to a boarding school that might as well be a war zone. So I left, and the people at my current residence turned paradise into a nightmare.” I reopened my eyes. “Everywhere I go I can’t escape Satan. Except maybe heaven, so…”

“…Fair enough.” Mello nodded slowly and released me. “In that case, I’ll have to give you something to fight for.”

“You barely know me; how the hell will that happen?”

“500 Kanto Avenue. 9 PM tomorrow. Can you do that?”

He had a hand on the side of my face now, with a soft edge to his hard stare. Though the difference was marginal, I wondered how Mello could allow his comportment to change so suddenly. Cold and withdrawn one minute, letting his guard down around a total stranger the next. Not exactly very logical.

I also wondered why I liked his touch. Why I wanted to lean over and fall asleep in his lap...

Even though it was the worst idea ever. God knew what Mello was up to with all this sweet talking. But I figured he was worth investigating. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

I rose from the grass and rinsed my knife in the stream. “Will you be all right getting home?” Mello asked me as I dried it off.

“Of course,” I replied. “I’m not helpless.”

“All right. Just… watch your back, kid.”

With that, Mello darted into the trees, back toward the city. I went the opposite way, into the barren countryside, gears turning slowly in my mind.

 

I recalled hearing someone say Mello’s name before, but I couldn’t put the voice to a face. Perhaps the voice didn’t even have a face at that moment. Though my memories were a tad hazy, I was eighty-three percent sure I’d heard it at Wammy’s House. In which case “Mello” would be a given alias.

I did some research the next day on all those assigned a name that started with “M.” The first place I checked was Master Roger’s office, early in the morning when he was still asleep. At his desk, only one of six drawers was locked. I took out a paperclip, reshaped it, and picked the lock until the drawer slid open. Inside, I found an anthology containing the basic records of every student the orphanage ever housed.

Not surprisingly, the entire book was handwritten. In scrawling cursive that really only Roger could understand. But I found it wasn’t impossible to interpret with some effort. Like solving a cryptogram: matching seemingly random symbols to letters of the alphabet. And lo and behold, I found the alias at the bottom of page seventy-four.

That was about it, though. It stated that Mello arrived at the orphanage in 1998, and his record stopped there. Nothing of his achievements to date or where he’d most likely end up when he left.

“When he left…”

Was that it? Did Mello somehow run away before Roger could write anything down?

Impossible. The stranger from last night couldn’t have been older than sixteen. By that logic, he had to have left at age three or four, no later than the turn of the millennium. And that would be crazy.

I looked back down at the book and noticed very faint marks in the space that followed 1998. Marks in the same scrawling style as the rest of the writing. Somebody had erased the words that were originally there. It had to have been Mello, scratching out his record just before abandoning this place.

_To start over… to become reborn…_

I shut the book and returned it to Roger’s desk. Our parallel was beginning to scare me.

 

I kept the knife that I stole from the kitchen. No way was I going into the city unarmed.

I hid the blade inside my mattress, covering the hole I cut into it with the sheets. I pulled the weapon out of its hiding place and slipped it into my satchel. Out the corner of my eye, I saw a sliver of golden light enter my otherwise pitch-dark bedroom.

“Ooh, shiny! Can I touch?”

Naturally I’m not the only one here who knows how to pick locks.

“Get out of here, will you?”

BB skipped into the room and plucked the knife out of my hand. He held it longwise between his fingers, gazing upon it as if it were made of gold. “Fancy weapon you have here,” he drawled. “What might you be planning to do with it?”

“Stab both your eyes out, and your throat, and your heart. In that order.”

BB threw his head back and cackled like a witch. “You’re hilarious! I’d love to see you try, Near…”

“One day I will,” I warned him, “since you made the foolish mistake of revealing that you know my real name.”

“Oh, please!” BB leaned in too close, wild eyes glinting like sunlit prisms. _“I know everybody’s real name,”_ he whispered.

I stared at him and then rolled my eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

Something possessed me to yank the knife back and push him aside. I continued on my way out of the building.

“What the hell!?” BB called after me. “Where you going??”

The boy twisted my left arm behind my back and tackled me to the floor. I hit my head, and for seven horrifying seconds all I could feel was his fist pounding my flesh. Panic seized my mind… until I remembered that I wasn’t defenseless that night. Before my attacker could break me, I pulled out my blade and mockingly poked his Adam’s apple.

“Follow me, and I promise you I will cut you in half!”

BB didn’t follow me.

September 22nd marked my first victory against the lunatic. Turns out he was little more than a coward after all. Though I had no idea where on God’s earth this new bravado was coming from. Whatever it was, I figured I could use it where I was going next.

 

The building at 500 Kanto Avenue was dark, empty, and completely run-down. Just as I’d expected.

There were only three floors, but that was plenty of room for crooks to hide out, cloaked in the shadows. If Mello did bring friends along for the intervention, at least I was armed. Gripping the knife in my right hand, I entered the building through the back door.

It was too quiet on this first floor. No signs of movement, no sounds of footsteps. Just the wind and what felt like thousands of nervous delusions. My heart pounded in my head, and my hands started shaking. For God’s sake, I didn’t even know how to properly wield this weapon.

What the hell was I thinking, coming out here all by myself? I was a teenage recluse who could hardly fix his own breakfast. I knew plenty of things in theory, but when it came down to it I was useless at applying them.

_I should turn back now… before somebody sneaks up on me and—_

A hand latched onto my wrist, and another slapped itself over my screaming lips. I tried wrestling against them, but they were too strong. I was guided into the next room, placed gently down on the concrete floor, and given a light to see by. I held the lamp to the phantom’s face and sighed with relief upon seeing his sharp, bright eyes.

“Mello, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

He chuckled and wiped the sweat off my brow. “What was that you said about not being helpless?”

No amount of glaring from me made Mello rethink his comments. He just sat there with his eyes fixed on my face.

“What are you still looking at?” I stammered.

“Nothing,” Mello spat, quickly averting his eyes.

He stood and helped me onto my own feet. All these strange gestures of his were starting to get into my head. Just by touching him, my heart rate picked up for no reason. I quickly turned my attention to the barren room around me.

“Is this your home? Just a hangout? Or the official base for your gang?”

“I don’t have a gang,” Mello deadpanned. I felt like he deliberately left that thought unfinished. “But your second guess was right.”

“Great. Now why exactly did you invite me here?”

Mello leaned back and pressed his palms against the wall. He casually crossed his right leg over his left and looked me straight in the eyes. Or something like that; mine got stuck on his hips, exposed by a short vest and highlighted by tight leather pants.

I couldn’t get my damn heart to stop racing. It was beginning to drive me insane, actually.

“Well,” Mello began, “you brought up an important point the last time we met. I can’t help you if I have no idea who you are.”

 _Here we go,_ I muttered internally, _Attack of the Generic Questionnaire…_

“First of all, what the hell is _your_ name?”

“Near,” I blurted out, since it was the first thing that came to mind. But something was off about the way it sounded in this building. Why didn’t I slow down and come up with a different alias?

Mello simply nodded and smiled to himself, as if it wasn’t weird at all for a person’s first name to be a preposition.

“That’s cute. Now if I had to guess, you’re… thirteen?”

I shook my head. “Fifteen. I’m small for my age.”

“Oh. Sorry!” Mello laughed a little, and I couldn’t help but grin myself.

He paused to look me up and down, slowly, twice through. I couldn’t keep my gaze off Mello’s face, his expression caught deep in thought. I liked this softer side of him, buried deep under an enigmatic exterior. No, it was more like sheer fascination.

“So… how’s life over at Wammy’s?”

I fell hard back to Earth.

“How the hell did you know??”

“I could just tell,” Mello responded, “from the moment we first met. Every kid who’s ever lived there has pretty much the same aura.”

“You know because you were one of them.”

Mello’s eyes brightened. “Precisely.”

I marveled at how incredibly in tune this boy was with his intuition. I, for one, could never rely on such instincts alone.

Mello waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, don’t answer that question. You did that last night.”

Visions of the assaults from that evening and the one previous were phasing in and out of my mind. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, I realized I could only scare BB because I had a showpiece to wave in his face. If I got rid of it in the morning we’d be right back at square one.

_In the morning… I have to face him again tomorrow…_

Mello’s hand came down on my back, and I woke up.

“Somebody hurt you before you came here, or am I wrong?”

“No… you’re right.”

His touch brought me a sense of peace. The kind that almost lulls one to sleep. Mello sat us down and turned my head onto his shoulder. Even this partial embrace filled me with warmth. He thrilled me with the sound of his hushed voice, sure and steady in my ear.

“Near, let me tell you something about people you can’t beat. _They don’t exist._ ”

Any cynicism with which I would’ve brushed those words off left my system all at once. What was going _on_ with me tonight??

“I feel like you’re that type of boy who’s deceptively innocent. Underestimate him, and you’re dead.” Mello sat me up and nodded. “Yeah, that’s you.”

“Is this Mello’s intuition talking again?”

“Right you are, Near.”

I’m sure that by now my cheeks were red as tomatoes. I saw Mello absently tugging at the rosary around his neck before I turned my gaze to the floor.

“Mello… can I ask _you_ something now?”

“Sure, what?”

I mustered all the courage I could to look back up at him. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

Mello must have thought I asked the silliest question ever. And I probably did. But I had to know; nobody had given this many damns since Watari adopted me. Before that… I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head. I had accepted that, for whatever reason, I wasn’t built to be loved. So what inspired this random city boy to break the trend?

“I… honestly have no idea,” Mello admitted. “There’s just… something about you, Near, that makes me unable to leave you alone.”

Those were the last words he spoke for a full two minutes. Mello really meant what he said, I could hear it in his tone, and nothing in the world could have made me happier. I almost didn’t notice his stone-cold nonchalance resurface in all that time.

“I think I’ve kept you here long enough. Wouldn’t want Roger having a stroke over your disappearance.”

“Right,” I giggled, slinging my satchel over my back. “Good night, Mello.”

Mello pulled a half-eaten chocolate bar from his pocket and took another bite out of it. “Take care, Near. Stay strong.”

I filed those words into my conscience and made my exit.

 

It wasn’t until I set foot on the street that Mello’s ingenious plan finally hit me.

At least half an hour had passed since I arrived at his hideout. I feared that was too much time for someone to notice my absence. Why had I even taken that risk, leaving before everybody had gone to bed? Couldn’t we have worked something else out at the river?

But besides all that, the only reason I could have had such thoughts then… it was because I had just come out of this euphoric haze that Mello had conjured up. The kind of comfort that I thought only existed in fairy tales, the work of magic. Having that sensation hollowed out of me by the chill of the evening breeze made me realize that I didn’t care about anything—

_As long as I didn’t have to leave him._

“Holy shit…”

That was it. Mello wasn’t kidding when he said he’d give me something to fight for. That beautiful rascal saw the truth before I did, and in a matter of two nights he got me to fall in love.


	3. The Home Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, got a little extra free time today and finished cleaning up this third chapter rather quickly. In the next few installments this story's really gonna get moving, so I'm excited to see what everyone thinks of it. Oh, and Happy International Fanworks Day today!! :D

That night, I dreamt that I was back in the forest where I almost slit my throat. I was hiding in the bushes, watching a tall, slender figure bathe himself in the river. He had his back to me almost the whole time, oblivious to my prying eyes. At the last second, the figure turned around, and there was Mello’s angelic face, illuminated by the moonlight.

Mortified, I woke with a start. Once I convinced myself that the episode was just my imagination, I began to calm down. And then I felt sick to my stomach that this was what came out of my imagination.

Nobody asked where I went last night, and I was relieved not to have to deal with such questions. Better I didn’t try to explain my suicidal thoughts, or how they led me to meet a former student who disappeared from this house ages ago. I’d look almost as crazy as BB.

But even he was nowhere near my mind today. All I could possibly think about was putting together my jigsaw puzzles and when I would next see Mello. God, even the sound of his name was giving me butterflies in my stomach. I wanted desperately to lie in his arms again, to have him whisper his wisdom into my ear. Before long, I knew, he’d have me dying to kiss him.

Just one question: did Mello want the same thing?

Realistically speaking, I still had no idea what this boy’s true motives were. Two nights and a grand total of forty-five minutes is hardly enough time to make such judgments. Even in the event that they were pure, there was a high probability that Mello didn’t think of me that way. Considering our very minor acquaintance and the figure I was hiding under pajamas that were two sizes too big, that chance was probably worse than statistics could even illustrate.

Or better yet, maybe Mello simply _couldn’t_ fall in love with me. What were the odds that he happened to be homosexual too?

Such was the way I spent the next several days, torturing myself with this vicious cycle of contradicting thoughts.

At about 3 PM on September 26th, I heard a knock at my door. It was Linda, the girl who lived in the room neighboring mine. Though she generally never paid me much mind, she was kind to me when she did.

“Master Roger’s waiting in his office for you,” the girl whispered. “It’s urgent.”

“Thank you, Linda. I’ll be on my way now.”

Roger never called anybody down to his office unless something really extraordinary was going on. And I could only think of one such occurrence that would involve me…

I walked into the office, and poor Roger looked like he just saw a ghost.

“…Linda said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Roger croaked, turning the laptop on his desk to face me. “It’s a message from the boy we named ‘M.’”

_Knew it was him._

The computer screen was entirely white, save a giant black “M” in Old English type at the center. The voice on the recording was shrouded in a gritty vocoder and a threatening demeanor.

 _“Hello, Master Roger. Miss me?”_ His laugh was laced with sarcasm. _“This is a message for the boy you call ‘N.’ You know, the one with the cute little white pajamas? Tell him to meet me at Sakura Tower, alone, in twenty-four hours. He should take anything with him that he considers valuable—I know it’s not much. We need to work out a deal, a major one. Don’t probe the kid about anything, though. And rest assured that whatever happens subsequently, it’s all of his own accord.”_

And that was the end of it.

Roger slowly shook his head. “…How does he know what you wear?”

“Didn’t he _just_ say not to probe me?”

“Mello says lots of things, Near,” Roger sighed. “But this… I don’t like it at all.”

“Why not?”

“Four years ago tomorrow, Mello ran from this place. Nobody had heard from him since until now.” Roger shut the laptop. “And I feel as if he purposely coordinated this stunt of his like so. I’m not very sure that I can trust his word.”

I couldn’t keep this ridiculous manic grin off my face.

“Well, you can’t follow me, so… let’s have a little faith here.”

“Near, is everything all right?” Roger stammered.

And he had no idea just how all right I was with this whole situation. I found it difficult to conceal my excitement in that moment. Mello wanted to see me; he’d just demanded my audience. That very next day, I’d be alone with him, and his perfect body, and his devil’s charm. Soon, I knew, fantasies would begin overtaking my mind, and my dreams would only get wetter. This obsession of mine was nothing short of dangerous, but I truly didn’t care.

“Don’t tell me you’re positive that this will end well,” the master continued.

“Can I be honest with you, Roger?”

No response.

“Mello and I have met before, in secret. Hence he is familiar with my wardrobe.”

I checked to make sure Roger was still breathing before going on.

“At tomorrow’s meeting, he’ll want me to make a decision. Something along the lines of choosing which world I want to be a part of. Mello’s been hinting at it all this time, and now he’s bringing out the final test.”

“But why does Mello have to orchestrate the initiation?” the old man wondered. “Can’t you zip your own pants up?”

_Well, now’s as good a time as any._

“Because I hide it well, Roger,” I admitted, “but I’m weak, and I’m insecure. I’ve been hurt so many times my self-confidence has shattered. Mello’s the first person since Watari to genuinely care about me. I’m aware that this sounds contrived, but it’s true.”

Roger began fiddling with the pens on his desk, like he always does when stressed. So much for not looking crazy today.

“Are you telling me that you’ve… fallen under a spell? That you’re bound to his will, however destructive it may be?”

I rolled my eyes. “Only a fool would do that.”

Roger gave me a blank stare.

“My intent is to test Mello, the same way he’s testing me,” I explained. “By tomorrow afternoon I’ll know for sure what he wants with me.”

 _Tap-tap-tap_ went the pens on the desk. _Tap-tap-tap…_

“I understand that Mello is hard for you to trust. Four years is too much time for people to grow corrupt.” I smiled to myself. “But I’ve been acquainted with quite a different shade of his character.”

I shut my eyes and pictured it: Mello, the warrior angel with eyes of stunning electric blue. Imbuing me with strength and wisdom like I’ve never known before.

“No, he has nothing to gain from harming me just yet. I’ll be fine.”

…

“Just don’t die” was Roger’s last plea before he dismissed me from his office.

 

Unless one could deploy the U.S. Army, there was no fighting me once I had my mind set on something. Roger knew that.

On the morning of September 27th, I took extra care in grooming myself. I filled my satchel with a handful of my favorite toys, as well as a few toiletries. For some reason I couldn’t shake the feelings of nervous excitement that swelled as my departure drew closer. To expel some of that energy, I reviewed drills from the previous day’s crash course in self-defense. I hoped to God that it would be enough to save me should an emergency arise.

Roger sent me off in private that afternoon. He tried a thousand times to get proper shoes on my feet, but I insisted on my slippers. “I’ll be lighter on my feet that way.”

“Come back safe,” Roger begged. “Watari would kill me if I lost you to the madness of that city as well.”

“…I’ll try.”

That was the best promise I could give him.

 

Unlike the first meeting place, Sakura Tower was actually a functioning institution.

It was a modest, wide five-story motel. Something about the place felt kind of seedy; I couldn’t tell you what, though. There were at least a hundred rooms in this building, easily. And Mello deliberately failed to share which one was his.

But I figured the answer was somewhere around the main lobby. I scanned the area for anything that looked even the slightest bit out of place.

“You lost, kid?”

It was the large bald man at the reception desk. His voice was deep and grating, and he sported the most intricate facial hair I’d ever seen.

“No,” I answered him. “And yes. I’m looking for someone.”

“Who’s someone?”

The receptionist—Rod Ross, his name tag read—reached for the guest directory. My hand came down on the binder’s cover before he could even open it.

“He’s not in there, I can tell you that much.”

Mr. Ross threw his arms up. “Then how would I know where he is?”

“Blonde hair? Tight black leather? Loves chocolate?”

I waited.

“Mello…” The man stroked his beard and chuckled. “You really do look like a little schoolboy, N.”

A little schoolboy. _So that’s what Mello says about me to his friends._

“Where is he?”

“Mello didn’t want me to state that explicitly, in case you were followed,” Mr. Ross said. “He gave me a code to pass on instead.”

I leaned in closer, and the receptionist whispered the code words to me:

_“Inruptio Visigoth.”_

I thanked Rod Ross for the information and headed up the stairs.

 

Mello’s riddle was easy enough to puzzle out as I walked. The first half was a Latin word that roughly translated to “invasion.” An invasion of the Visigoths… that was the night they ransacked the city of Rome. In the year 410.

I paused in front of the door to Mello’s room and took a final deep breath. I lifted my fist to knock, and it flew open like magic. Not surprisingly, the boy had another bar of chocolate in hand. A small smile played on his lips.

“Good job paying attention in history class.”

“Thanks,” I sighed as I entered.

Mello kept the room in good shape for someone who otherwise seemed so shady. The bed was made, the desk was neat, and a soccer match was playing on the television. He made sure to dust every dresser before I arrived; I could tell because he missed a few spots. Still, I was wary of every corner where he could have been hiding things…

And I saw his eyes, soft as feathers, telling me to please make myself comfortable. Never in my life had being suspicious of someone been such a job.

I dropped my bag. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. Why do you want me to stay?”

“And you passed section two!” Mello patted me on the back. “So you really are Wammy’s brightest.”

“Th-that’s correct,” I stuttered. “Do you plan to abuse my intellect for your own demented purposes?”

Mello took his hand off me. “Demented? Far from it.”

I seated myself on the arm of the nearest chair. “I’ve got a while, Mello. Convince me.”

“All right.” The boy shrugged and waltzed over to his desk. “I expected you to turn the tables on me. But why so soon?”

“So we can be done with it and get on with our lives if I don’t like it.”

Mello rolled his eyes and ducked under the desk, lowering a hidden compartment and pulling out a laptop. “You’re pretty damn cute, you know that?”

“You think I’m kidding?”

Mello sighed and shot me a glance just short of patronizing. “You really don’t know how to take a compliment, do you?”

He pulled up a host of files on the computer and waved me over. Maps, profiles, newspaper articles—a little bit of everything clouded the screen. _So this is what he does with his free time, huh._

“I need your help to end a turf war,” Mello said. “You’re the only one I can trust to solve this case alongside me.”

“Trust? You knew me all of a week; where is this coming from?”

Mello laughed as if he knew something that everyone else didn’t. “God, if I can’t trust the smartest boy who ever lived in Wammy’s House, then who _can_ I trust?”

Valid point.

Using the files as his guide, Mello caught me up on the story of this city’s ugliest turf war ever thus far. First were profiles of the two criminal organizations involved.

“This is a war between the local mafia and the notorious Yotsuba mob. The leader of the former has been trying for the past eighteen months to wipe out the latter. While the mafia boasts exceptional soldiers and tacticians, Yotsuba’s too skilled at defense and evasion.”

Next was a map, covered in blinking dots. “These points represent the locations of battles and skirmishes involving these parties—at least, the ones my team could get to. Those that are red involved innocent civilians who were either used as leverage and/or killed in the crossfire.”

I noticed that over half of the eleven dots were scarlet. _These people used a hell of a lot of human lives as tools._

“Well what the hell is the motive for all of this?”

Mello’s shoulders sank. “As far as I’m concerned, this is all an insane power struggle. Each is threatened by the other, so everyone’s out for each other’s blood.”

_A year and a half of warfare and that’s the end of the story? I don’t buy it._

But I didn’t press him about the issue. There was plenty of other information to process—trends amongst those who were victimized, the constant shifting of headquarters locations, and the unsuccessful manhunts of state police. This case was a cesspool of carnage and madness.

“Peace vanished into oblivion,” I whispered.

“Exactly.” Mello closed the computer and turned to me. “For too long I’ve been unable to get a hold on these guys. There’s gotta be something I’m missing… and I can’t think of anyone else who could help me find it.”

That’s when I hit a wall. I didn’t know what to do. Mello was telling the truth about this street war, doubtlessly. These are no ordinary villains if the police can’t even touch them. But how did I know he wasn’t working with one of those criminal empires, posing as the good guy to obtain another can of bait?

Actually, no. That was highly unlikely. This was an honest boy from Wammy’s House asking a fellow student for a partnership. I could see it in his eyes, how strongly he felt about ending this conflict…

And how captivating they were…

_What am I saying!?_

“Near?” Mello wrapped his fingers around my forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“…I’m sorry.”

I took a few steps back and returned to the arm of the large chair. “I won’t be of much use to you, Mello,” I told him. “We’re talking about armed and dangerous criminals here, the kinds of forces I’m not prepared to confront. My presence would only drag you down. And I’m… already too distracted as it is.”

“By what?”

“You know. Don’t play dumb.”

Since the minute I met Mello, I couldn’t hide my fondness of him. This moment was no exception; it felt like coals were burning beneath my cheeks. I knew he was too smart not to catch wind of _something_ by now. Still, this indirect confession seemed to lift some tension from his stance.

“Well, in that case… don’t worry about it.”

The purr in his voice made my heart skip a beat. Suddenly it was hard to breathe normally. Just for comfort, I began twirling locks of my hair between my fingers. I was unraveling like a rolling spool of yarn, and I couldn’t stop it.

I blinked, and Mello appeared on the cushion of the chair. He slung his arm around me and slid me into his lap.

“Goddammit, Near. I almost can’t stand how charming you are…”

The fingers on Mello’s left hand started creeping up my shirt. They walked up my back, and a shiver came racing down. He had his eyes shut, and he was smiling, as if he _enjoyed_ the feel of my pudgy torso.

“M—Mello… what are you do—?”

“Shh…” He put a finger to my lips. “Don’t speak. I know this makes you feel good, right?”

Mello was now gently massaging the small of my back. At a loss for all other words, I simply nodded.

“Then let it. Relax, Near....”

“But what about you?”

Me and my goddamn mouth.

Mello stared at me as if I had two heads. “What about me?”

“How is this making _you_ feel good??”

My shame wrapped its claws around my neck and nearly crushed it. It squeezed a single tear out of my eye. “Just cut it out. You can quit pretending to be attracted to this tub of lard because I know there’s _no way_ in _hell_ you’d be!”

At first, it didn’t look like Mello knew how to react. His muscles were rigid, his countenance placid. But I swear I could see his heart break through his eyes. As if hearing all those years of misery rolled up into one sentence tore it right open.

I myself was shattering, my head flooded with ugly retentions. I couldn’t fight it; I burst into tears, and Mello pulled me close and squeezed me tight. I felt his fingers combing through my white locks.

“Near, shut up,” he whispered into my ear. “And tell whatever voices are in your head to shut up, too.”

I bit my lip hard in a desperate attempt to stop the noise. Mello put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back just enough so that he could look me in the eyes.

“Near,” he said to me, “Know that I’m a man who means every word he says. And I truly believe that you are beautiful, every inch of you. You’re perfect.”

Mello smiled at me again and out rolled new tears of happiness. It had been years since I last heard anyone say that to me. Mello dried my eyes, and his soft gaze was replaced by a serious face.

“Now, I want you to take everything that anybody ever said otherwise and throw it in the proverbial fire. Because it doesn’t mean shit anymore, got it?”

“Got it.”

“You have me now.” Mello traced my cheek with his fingertips. “And I have you.”

His hand slipped swiftly under my chin and turned my head upward. Mello’s other arm went around my waist, holding me firmly against him as he kissed me. I panicked at first, but the gesture felt so good that I had to shut my eyes and drink it all in. I started to mimic his moves, pushing back on his lips with my own, and we fell into a steady rhythm. I became obsessed with the feel of his tongue caressing mine. As expected, he tasted of chocolate, but there was something else there that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. When Mello finally pulled away I was gasping for air.

I blushed furiously. “You can tell that you’re more or less my first, or can’t you?”

Mello’s eyes kept bouncing up and down like basketballs. “Which one, your first kiss or your first boner?”

I looked down and saw a single point stretching out my loose pants. I thought I’d felt something tugging at me all this time.

“Well, Mello… both. My first real ones, anyway.”


	4. The Underground Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block + craptons of schoolwork + life in general = hell in a hand basket. There's your math lesson for the day, folks.
> 
> Yeah, I would've loved to update this fic sooner, but the universe decided to rob me of creative writing time for a while. The good news is that I'm going on break in a couple of weeks, so you can expect more regular uploads later this month. For now, sit back and relax as we further explore the dark heart of the city.

_This has to be a dream,_ my mind repeated like a broken record. _Don’t tell me you believe any of that just happened._

But it did. It felt like a miracle that something I thought was so impossible actually worked out for me. I was dizzy with the adrenaline Mello’s kiss left swimming in my veins. As for the erection, I don’t think I lost it for another hour. There really is a God, I concluded, because I finally had proof of the existence of people who _wanted_ me. For me.

Mello looked relieved as well, smiling softly to no one in particular. “I’m glad that we could get that off our chests, Near.”

“You’re gay, too,” I sighed. “Never would’ve guessed.”

Mello tilted his head back. “Dear Lord… the day I found that out was _so_ much fun.”

“Mello,” I continued, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to stay here and help you kick those crime lords’ asses.”

_“…Thank you.”_

Mello kissed me on the forehead and rose to assemble his taping equipment.

 

_“Good afternoon, Roger. It’s me, N. I hope you’re well, though I get the feeling you haven’t worried too much about me. In case Watari’s listening, I’m perfectly safe and healthy. My meeting with Mello ran smoothly, and nobody attacked us. Nor did he attack me._

_“Speaking of whom, Mello is in need of my assistance. Colt Valley has been overrun by criminal masterminds. Without a skilled investigative partner, he’ll never be able to put an end to their reckless warfare, which is why I’ve decided to remain here with him and help reverse the damage they’ve dealt on the city._

_“I suppose this is where I say farewell, Master Roger. And if anybody asks—which I doubt will happen—just tell them Watari sent me off.”_

So ended my miserable life at the orphanage.

 

Mello had Mr. Ross buy us dinner that night. Shrimp fried rice and noodles from a Chinese place a few blocks away. I don’t remember anything I had in the past decade tasting more like home.

“So, you still play with your Legos?” Mello asked me.

I noticed for the first time that my satchel was wide open. The flap must have flown backwards when I dropped it earlier.

“Yes,” I replied. “For whatever reason I never grew out of them.”

“Nor can you think straight unless you have them around?”

_I swear, this boy is a mind reader…_

“I suppose that is true.”

Mello grinned and leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“You’re the same way with chocolate, I presume?”

“Bingo.” Mello pushed his rice aside and produced a bar from the nearest drawer.

Now that we were on the subject, a thought occurred to me. “So I guess everyone develops some silly fixation after living in Wammy’s House for a while.”

“Pretty much.” Mello went under the desk again for his laptop. “Though I wouldn’t call it silly.”

“Oh?”

“Think about it: people held freaking anvils over our heads in place of normal standards. It’s insane trying to train grade school kids to become the next Deneuve; I don’t care _how_ smart they are.” He fell backwards onto his bed. “We were forced to grow up too fast, and now we’re all clinging to scraps of our innocence for dear life.”

“Really? All of us?” I couldn’t help but smirk. “I wouldn’t call gang-hunting clinging to innocence, Mello.”

“True, I didn’t have to get involved,” he admitted. “But out here, you either become the monsters or fight them, so I chose the freelance police route.”

I chuckled at that. “Freelance police? That sounds dangerous.”

“Glad I could make you laugh,” Mello quipped. “I like how it sounds.”

Now my cheeks were slightly flushed and Mello had flooded the computer screen with profiles and photographs galore. “Come here,” he said, “I need to brief you on our next mission.”

Next to one of the profiles was a street view of Colt Valley Police Headquarters. “The sad irony of this is that I’m ninety percent sure our target, who’s with the police, has ties to the mafia. His name’s Light Yagami, age twenty-three, S-and-M pervert on the prowl.”

“For anyone?” I inquired. “Or does he have a target?”

Mello almost laughed. “This guy? He’s _always_ got a target.”

_Lovely..._

“Currently he’s pissed at a private investigator who ran into him while doing case work and escaped his clutches. It took a hell of a lot of digging, but I found out that investigator’s one of the brightest detectives to ever live, right up there with Deneuve and Coil. He goes by ‘L,’ and that’s all I know. He’s otherwise wiped his record clean.

“But anyway, Light’s upset that he lost his prey for the first time in his life and wants revenge like the little seventh grade son of a bitch he is. So what does he do? He plans to attack his fucking intern!”

“Who?”

Mello pulled up another photo. “This is Tota Matsuda, age twenty-seven, the youngest man on L’s task force. Absurdly happy, flighty, and extremely naïve. He’s almost too easy to take advantage of.” Mello shook his head. “Yagami, you bastard…”

I began twirling my hair again. “How do you believe this personal squabble and the larger war are connected?”

“We know Light’s going to kidnap Matsuda and hold him hostage. When, where, and how, though, we have no idea.” Mello snapped his chocolate bar in half. “But he’ll use him to back L so far into a corner he’ll have to give in to his—or the mafia’s—demands. Just another pawn in a psychotic game of human chess.”

“And just how did you get your hands on all this information?”

“We call him Sidoh,” Mello responded. “He’s our master spy, so skilled at concealing himself you’d swear he can disappear. I had him follow Light around for the past week, and it looks like we’re in for a showdown.”

I reviewed all the information on the screen one last time. “So you really do know everything except when Mr. Yagami’s going to strike.”

“Yeah, Sidoh will be back here later tonight to confirm that.”

“Or now.”

An impish-looking teenage boy with salt and pepper hair leapt onto Mello from behind, giggling like a school child. Mello shoved him off of his back, trying and failing to stifle a smile. “I swear to God, you’re fucking… ten years old,” he muttered.

“Maybe.” Sidoh turned to me next. “So who’s your new roommate?”

“His name is Near.”

“Wammy’s?”

“Yep.”

“Thought so. Who gave him such a stupid name?”

I crossed my arms and sighed. “Does it matter?”

“What’s he doing here?” Sidoh nudged Mello in the side. “Did you invite him over, hmm?”

“Shut up, Sidoh. He’s helping us with the case.”

The spy cackled his head off instead. “I’m just playing!” he exclaimed. “He’s too young for you anyway, right?”

“I’m fifteen.”

Sidoh turned his nose up. “For real?”

I nodded slowly, deliberately.

_“Damn…”_

Mello patted his friend on the back. “Sidoh, I love you, man, but you’re an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

Sidoh pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped through a score of photos he shot throughout the evening. “Light went on a little shopping trip tonight,” he sang.

“Where?”

“I dunno. Some shady shop that sells torture devices.”

I took a closer look at the pictures of a young man entering and exiting the store. As for any other details, I couldn’t make them out. “How do you know that’s him,” I wondered, “if all these images are shots of his side and back?”

“He wears one of the same three jackets every time he goes out. But Light seems to like this tan trench coat the best.”

“Did you see any specific items?” Mello pressed on.

“Uh… I saw a rope.” Sidoh shrugged. “That’s all I can tell you for sure.”

Mello huffed and rolled his eyes.

“What!? I’m the spy, not the kinky tool specialist!”

“I hope to God that Near’s more useful than you.”

“We’ll see.” Sidoh rubbed his hands together. “I heard him muttering to himself tonight, and it looks like Light’s making his move within the next twenty-four hours.”

For whatever reason, that sentence made me unimaginably nervous.

 

Sidoh left for his own room at 8:52 PM that night. Once we were alone, Mello helped me put together the jigsaw puzzle I brought with me. “Why the hell is it blank?” he cried when he spilled all the pieces onto the floor.

“It’s more fun that way.” I spread them out and started placing them on the board.

“Let me guess: you could solve this whole hundred-piece puzzle in thirty seconds if you wanted to?”

“Forty-eight is my record,” I told him. “But I’m in no rush tonight.”

Turns out Mello wasn’t half bad at keeping up with me once he found a rhythm. By about 9 PM the sheet of white was complete, and the two of us resolved to get some sleep. I noticed Mello started undoing the buttons on his vest, so in a panic I spun myself around.

“Something up, Near?”

“No.” My voice cracked there. “Just thought I’d give you your privacy.”

Mello gently turned me to face him and graced me with a tender smile. “That’s not necessary. I have nothing to hide.”

Seeing him shirtless excited me like nothing else ever had.

That night, we slept in the same bed, despite the fact that there were two in the room. We both faced the window on the left wall, Mello lying behind me. He put his arm over my body and kissed me goodnight on the back of my neck. I turned my head to return the favor before falling into a deep, peaceful slumber.

 

“Emergency! Boss, emergency!”

Sidoh and a partner, Zakk Irius, came flying through the door as Mello and I were finishing breakfast.

“Good, you’re back.” Mello sprang from his seat. “Now what the hell does ‘emergency’ mean?”

“Light found Matsuda’s house!” Zakk panted. “He’s been stalking around there all morning.”

“Of course he’s going to attack the poor man in his own home.” Mello pounced on his laptop and searched the address. “And you forgot that you can text me warnings using our code words, didn’t you, Sidoh?”

“No; I just forgot which generic statement meant ‘Matsuda.’”

Though he looked a tad worried, Sidoh couldn’t hide the sparkle that danced in his eyes at the prospect of a rescue operation. “So, how we gonna kill him?”

“We’re not killing anybody,” Mello deadpanned while the computer generated blueprints. “I might as well shoot _you,_ Sidoh; we’d be destroying valuable resources.”

“Resources?” Sidoh threw his arms up. _“He’s a rapist!”_

“Who’s working with the mafia now, I’m certain of it.”

Zakk stroked his chin. “And when you find out what they want, Mello, how do you plan on addressing the matter?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Mello stood and handed the laptop to me. “We exploit that weakness and use it to lure them in.”

“When will you learn that our forces are in no condition to fight any of them?”

There was a lilt in Zakk’s voice, as if some hidden message was slipped into that sentence. If anything, Mello just seemed annoyed by his patronizing tone.

“Well why do you think I’m working my ass off to get us to that point?”

My fingers went straight to my hair, spinning it every which way. Did Zakk know something about Mello that I failed to notice? I worried that I let him in too deep, that I allowed my bliss and lust to get in the way of healthy suspicion. Just for a few seconds…

Sometimes I hated my severe trust issues.

“Okay…” Sidoh stretched out the word as he inserted himself between Mello and Zakk. “Back to Operation Stop the Rapist?”

“Show me where Light was looking around,” I demanded, and Sidoh skipped over to me with the pictures in hand.

Zakk raised an eyebrow. “And since when does the new boy get to order us around?”

“Since Mello named him co-director.” Sidoh flicked through his new photo album. “And I got, like, five pictures of him by the kitchen window…”

“The hell kind of an operation are you running?” Zakk rubbed his temple. “Why you never send a boy to do a man’s job…”

“Go fuck yourself,” Mello muttered under his breath as Zakk left the room.

Sidoh heaved a huge sigh and stuck his tongue out. “Ugh, why is Zakk always such a killjoy?”

“He says _I_ don’t know what I’m doing,” Mello growled, “and he tells me every single day to back off and let Colt Valley crumble.”

“Huh?” I began fiddling with a few dice. “Why would he say that?”

Mello threw himself onto the nearest bed. “Because he’s a quitter. I swear Zakk gave up on us a month into the investigation.”

“Yeah,” Sidoh groaned. “His heart’s never in it.”

I moved from the desk to sit on the floor and started stacking the dice in towers. “Is there evidence to support that he might sympathize with one or both opposing parties?”

“No way, man!” Sidoh chirped. “He’s too much holier-than-thou for the thug life.”

“Please, he’s too prissy for our detective work!” Mello chimed in.

“Well, if it’s not that,” I deduced, “then it must be a personal issue. One that runs deeper.”

Sidoh wrapped himself up in a bedsheet. “What if he doesn’t have a soul?”

“If it feels that way, then he’s probably just overcompensating for something.”

My tower of dice was now twenty-five units high.

“Mello? Any thoughts?”

“Same as yours,” he stated flatly. “I just can’t figure out what the hell his problem is.”

Mello rose from the bed and started pacing about. Sidoh was now rolled up so tightly in the sheet that I could only see his head.

“…What if he’s just an old grump who thinks we can’t win?”

“He’s twenty-nine.”

Mello left it at that and went to take a walk.

 

Sidoh went out by himself that evening to closely watch Matsuda’s house for signs of trouble. The rest of us were stationed about a block away, awaiting his signal. Mello, Zakk, and Jack Neylon would go on the offensive at that point; I acted as mission strategist, to help make split-second decisions when their focus needed to be elsewhere.

September 28th, 10:07 PM. Mello’s cell phone vibrated in his hand.

“Fox is in the den. Let’s move.”

10:08 PM. I thought the wind was rustling the bushes, but it was just Sidoh shaking in his boots. The guy who was supposed to be our lookout for other criminals.

“He’s got two knives and a gun. Somebody’s gonna die—!”

Mello slapped the spy on the back of his head. “Pull it together. Not tonight.”

“…Light went in through the parlor window,” Sidoh said. “Quick; catch up to him!”

 

10:10 PM. The four of us spread out through the house and scaled the walls. It was eerily quiet; Light had hidden himself well. That same panic I felt in the building on Kanto Avenue started welling up again, but I managed to suppress it.

Zakk and I crossed paths at the stairwell in the center of the house. He was coming up from the basement as I was leaving the dining room to the right.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” I whispered in response. “Do the others have any leads?”

“Not as far as I know. They haven’t even seen Matsuda yet.”

I wrapped strands of my hair around one finger. “That’s not good. What if Light figured out—or even presumed that he’d be followed, so he staged interest in this location to mislead us?”

“You mean… you think they’re not here?” Zakk reiterated.

“Yes. I’m seventy-four percent sure.”

“Dear God…”

Swift, uneven footsteps came tumbling down the stairs. Urgency flared in Mello’s and Jack’s eyes. “He’s carrying the target to a warehouse,” Jack spat out.

10:16 PM. It was near pitch-dark in the halls of the abandoned building. The four of us tiptoed slowly over the wet concrete floor. Jack spotted a shadow on the wall up ahead, and we dove to the ground, stalking after it like panthers. In the next room we found the young man, striking though stoic, removing an unconscious figure’s clothing and tying his limbs. Though the evening was cold, he wore nothing but a tight pair of jeans.

The man’s shiny brown hair covered his eyes, but I’d know that devilish grin of his anywhere. I saw it once in one of Sidoh’s pictures. Light Yagami was nothing short of a madman.

He checked his silver wristwatch. “Wake up, Matsuda. Smile for L.”


	5. The Fever Pitch Account

Matsuda woke with bleary eyes. He’d definitely been drugged.

“C… Captain?”

“Good evening, Officer.”

Matsuda looked down at himself and immediately curled up into a ball. “Where are my clothes?”

“Somewhere,” Light responded casually as he hovered over his captive.

“Sir, what’s going on? What are you doing!?”

The officer began hyperventilating as his superior ran his hands along his midsection. He forced his legs open and used three fingers to methodically massage his penis. Matsuda could only squirm and shift about in protest, powerless to stop Light.

“What am I doing?” The police captain turned his head toward his backpack. “Just putting on a show for an old friend.”

Mello had his fists clenched at his sides as he watched all this unfold. In fact, he looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights. Jack nudged him hard on the shoulder, and he seemed to snap out of it.

“What are you waiting for? Say the word and we’ll kick his ass.”

“Not now,” Mello whispered back. This time he couldn’t hide the slight quiver in his voice.

Static sounds floated through the room, from the back where Light had stationed an open bag lying on its side. A disguised voice said, “I didn’t expect you to stoop this low, Light. Surely you’re aware that Mr. Matsuda is heterosexual?”

Light laughed to himself. “Of course I am. Tell me where The Rats are hiding and the nightmare ends.”

“How…” Matsuda had to catch his breath. “How are you able to contact him?”

Something about the particular timbre of that vocoder rang a few bells in the back of my head. I was almost certain I was imagining it, but at the same time I felt like I heard it somewhere. Meanwhile, Zakk narrowed his eyes at a still unmoving Mello.

“Not to worry, Matsuda,” L continued. “I’ve traced Light’s communication device to your location. Help is on the way.”

“Admirable, but not nearly enough.” Light reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade.

“Captain—!”

Matsuda’s sentence was cut short when Light swiped the blade across his chest. Wildly, he cut long red stripes into his arms and upper body. He then silenced Matsuda’s screams by swiftly shoving the knife in his mouth. Slowly, he ran it along the inside of his cheek, laughing maniacally the whole time.

“Light!” L shouted. “They’ve vanished, and that’s all I know. Stop what you’re doing and step away!”

Light carelessly flicked out the blade. “You weren’t saying that when _you_ were Matsuda.”

With that, Light smashed his lips against his slave’s, engaging in a deep kiss. A few seconds later, he came up with fresh blood coating his tongue. Zakk quit watching after that.

I blinked, and he was on top of Light, holding him in a headlock. Mello was pulling at bunches of his hair watching his foot soldier wrestle with the rapist. “Fucking idiot…” he swore through his teeth.

Light stopped trying to hide it after a while. He cackled for all the world to hear. “Impressive, L! I didn’t know your search and rescue squad was _that_ fast!”

“Those… aren’t my men.”

“Really?”

Light tossed Zakk over his head in one fluid motion. He jumped to his feet and straddled his opponent, rolling his hips in circles over his crotch. Zakk grunted and twitched uncomfortably, fueling his twisted lust. “Well, in that case,” Light purred, “he’ll make a fine present for _my_ boss.”

Mello silently signaled for Jack to run ahead and take out Light. As I watched him race off, I struggled to get a grip on the strategy. It didn’t make sense; had I any real experience or say in commanding this team, I would have given the order to attack ages ago. Some other force was holding Mello back, and it was far from physical.

Before bolting off to join his partner, Mello put a hand on my shoulder. “Find Sidoh and tell him to prepare for a prisoner,” he demanded.

I nodded and started running.

The last I saw of them, Jack and Mello had set Zakk free, and the three of them were ganging up on Yagami. Twenty-two paces later, a shrill cry rang out from the storeroom, followed by the thud of flesh and bone hitting the ground. I cringed when I heard the shrieking fizzle out, as if the victim were now choking on his own blood. I felt like hornets were buzzing through my brain until I got outside and felt the relief of fresh air.

 

Sidoh was crawling through the bushes along the sidewalk when I found him. “Hey, where’s everybody else?” he wondered.

“Fighting Light,” I panted. “Mello said to prepare for a prisoner.”

Sidoh stared at me sadly. “…You’re shaking.”

He was right; a slight tremor rattled my hands.

“Something else happened.”

“He stabbed one of our men. I didn’t see who it was; I only heard it.”

I gripped the grass underneath me, deeply rooted in the earth, and tugged at it to expel the panic flooding my heart. Jack, Zakk, or Mello? Who had Light felled with his blade? And why was I worried so little about two of those three possible victims?

Sidoh turned my head up. “Don’t worry, he’ll make it out. Mello always does.”

“How did you—?”

“I’m not that dumb.” Sidoh sported a wide grin. “You have a thing for each other; don’t lie.”

There I went with the hair twirling. “It’s a small crush, I assure you.”

We heard footsteps and labored breathing from up the street. Sidoh peeked through the bushes and affirmed the return of our teammates. I parted the leaves as well, watching the four of them approach our hideout. Jack escorted Light, whose arms were bound by his own rope, and Mello carried Zakk, his bare side soaked in blood.

Finally, I could breathe. And I felt horrible for it.

The wound was stuffed with Zakk’s shirt to slow the bleeding. Mello laid him down on the ground, and Sidoh tossed him a roll of gauze from his pack. He properly covered the wound and applied pressure to it, asking the injured man time and again to keep talking to him. “Check his other vitals,” he called out to me, and I hurried to it.

Zakk was breathing regularly, however shallow that breathing was, but his heart rate and body temperature had dipped slightly. I looked around me and noticed Sidoh, who was now handcuffing Light, had on a well-worn zippered sweater.

“Sidoh!” I barked. “I need your jacket!”

“Why?”

I pointed at the puncture wound victim.

He reluctantly unzipped the sweater. “Just… don’t get _too_ much blood on it.”

I draped the fabric over Zakk’s body to keep him from getting any colder. Two minutes later, Mello had stopped the bleeding and was helping him to stand. “We need to get out of here,” Zakk exhaled as soon as he was able to form a sentence.

 

Matsuda returned home safely that night, and he was given the weekend to recover. I helped Sidoh stitch up Zakk’s wound, which I predicted would heal up nicely over the next month or so. He was lucky; Light hadn’t cut deep enough to do damage to any major organs. Jack was nominated to keep watch over Light, whom Mello scheduled an interrogation with on Saturday afternoon. That morning, Zakk came by our room and shoved Mello into a wall.

“What the fuck was wrong with you last night!?” he yelled. “You completely froze up out there!”

“I was waiting for Light to let his guard down before we attacked, you idiot!”

“Oh, please. He was doing that practically the whole night.”

Zakk gripped the collar of Mello’s form-fitting top. Mello looked about ready to punch him, but he refrained and sighed exasperatedly instead.

“You’re hurt,” he reminded him. “You should be resting, not fighting your commander.”

“Oh yes, our valiant hero who saw a sadist and cowered like a pussy!” He let go of Mello’s clothes, and he stumbled backwards. “Enough with the lousy excuses. You screwed us over with your failed leadership, and that’s the end of the story.”

Mello glared daggers at Zakk. “And _you_ didn’t screw us over with your incredibly rash, miserable excuse for an ambush?”

The man couldn’t pretend that Mello was making things up. Still, he responded with conviction. “If I didn’t take action first you never would have moved.”

“And you never would’ve bled half to death.”

Zakk wrapped his fingers around Mello’s arm. “I know you’d love to solve this case, Commander, but look, it’s exhausted you mentally and emotionally. You should take it easy, leave the heavy lifting to someone else for a while.”

“Like who, you?”

Zakk shook his head. “I’m sure Near will suffice. The both of us can rest that way.”

“No way in hell.” Mello pushed Zakk away. “Get out.”

Reluctantly, he listened and left.

 

“I still don’t understand.”

Before Mello went off to question Light, I stopped him with my voice. He turned his head over his shoulder and said, “You don’t understand what?”

“If your soldiers were so determined to take matters into their own hands last night, why did they wait so long to leave your side?”

I placed a domino at the top of the pyramid I built and started a new one. Mello sighed and shrugged.

“Because they’re superstitious,” he stated. “When they follow orders, everything works out fine. When they defy orders, somebody gets beat. It’s happened like that consistently, without fail, since the day we took on this case.”

I nodded. “Interesting. Faulty logic, but at least it works to your advantage.”

“It’s not like this mission was any different.” Mello found himself a chocolate bar. “Zakk knew exactly what he was getting himself into.”

“…Why didn’t _you_ move immediately?”

Mello gave me a blank stare. “What do you mean? Like I told Zakk—”

“I mean the real reason, Mello.”

The commander gnawed at the chocolate in his mouth and tugged at his rosary again. He shook his head slowly and replied in a low voice, “Not right now.”

“But soon,” I insisted. “Or else a lot more than just your men will get beat in the future… whether or not your will is obeyed.”

I knocked down the pyramids with one flick of my fingers and started building a different structure. Mello leaned back against the door, allowing a mischievous grin to break his stoic character. “You know, it really turns me on when you get serious like that.”

His fingers fiddled with the doorknob behind him.

“You realize that’s an actual warning and not a flirt, right?”

Mello unbuttoned his pants and slipped them off. He dropped to the floor, kneeling behind me, and pulled me towards him by my waist. “I’m aware of that,” he purred. “But my point still stands.”

He tickled my sides, and I spun around to shove him off. My gaze was instantly trapped in his. Lust and newfound confidence took the reins.

The two of us simultaneously leaned into the kiss.

Mello didn’t hesitate to straddle me and rut his hips against mine as hard as he could. I could hear myself moaning with pleasure, feel myself going limp from the waist down. I hung onto Mello’s hair and teasingly licked his upper lip. He kept his teeth shut, though, refusing to let me in.

But I knew it was deliberate. By being so difficult in a moment so heated, he frustrated me, which made me more persistent because I wanted him more. That’s how my mind works in situations like this, and Mello figured it out before I did.

In about ten seconds my tongue found its way into Mello’s mouth. I was caught off guard by how fast our tender kiss had turned hot and heavy. Mello pressed his lips onto mine with such determination that I had trouble keeping up with him. Eventually I stopped trying and allowed him to pin me to the floor. I swear that boy’s tongue almost went straight down my throat.

I couldn’t decide on a good place to hang onto Mello after that. His hips, his waist, his ass—I touched and caressed him everywhere. It was then that a practical thought hit me over the head and I forced myself to push him away.

“Mello… what about Light?”

“That dick doesn’t deserve any special attention.” He ran a hand over my crotch. “But this one does.”

Chills ran through my body as I fit the pieces of Mello’s plan together. He was going to run late to the interrogation on purpose. Light was intelligent, but his mental stability was weak. Even a half-hour delay was bound to shake him up. Uncertainty of our plans could put just enough pressure on Light to crack him open.

Mello had time to kill… and he chose to kill it with me.

I leapt off that train of thought and nearly had a heart attack. My blood turned to ice in an instant. Subconsciously, I had let my guard down, allowing Mello to strip me of my pajamas and underwear.

_Since when in the hell do I space out that much??_

I tried covering myself with my arms, but there wasn’t much I could do with Mello still hovering over me. The hunger in his eyes gave way to confusion—no, more like concern. “Near, what’s the matter?” he whispered.

I couldn’t respond. Humiliation froze my vocal cords.

It finally clicked, and Mello slapped his forehead. “Still self-conscious. You’re afraid I don’t like what I see.”

_A… afraid?_

No, I was so sure that he didn’t like what he saw. Sure that he’d unveil my bare flesh and immediately shut down. Sure that he’d wonder what he miscalculated as he tried not to vomit. Sure that any attraction he felt would disappear the minute I lost my pajamas.

I was so sure. But I was so wrong.

“Near, I’m an idiot!”

Mello shoved all of my clothes onto my chest. “I… I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away, especially considering your situation. I’m… sorry.”

For the life of him, he couldn’t keep that damn irresistible sparkle out of his eyes.

“…Though if it means anything, I find your body to be uniquely alluring.”

Was he kidding? Every word he said meant the world to me.

And now that I thought about it, despite being a virtual stranger, _Mello_ meant the world to me. He did. For the five days I shared his company, I haven’t felt safer or more at ease. Each second I spent with him was the second I felt most alive.

_Breathe… you’re all right._

_He loves you._

_One hundred percent…_

I grabbed my clothing and flung it over my head in one sweeping motion, shocking the both of us. The pile landed several feet away, where neither of us could get to it easily. I considered it my way of kissing fear goodbye. One last act of defiance against my inhibitions.

“So, you really think I’m sexy?” I teased. _“Prove it.”_

Mello’s breath hitched, and he blushed furiously. He couldn’t hide it; I’d really turned him on with my audacity that time. The boy disguised the sound of choking on himself with a deep, throaty chuckle. He put a hand over his heart and playfully bowed to me.

“As you wish, young master.”

Mello undid the buttons on his vest and tossed it to the side. He caught me gawking at his rippling muscles and did nothing in response but smirk. I shivered beneath him, and he stroked my right arm with purpose, as if to comfort me. That was the first time I truly believed that I had nothing to fear.

Mello removed his underwear and then leaned over to kiss and nip at my neck, clutching my hips for balance. I could almost feel him leaving marks. He took his time planting a trail of kisses down my chest and onto my stomach. In an instant he had me giggling like a schoolchild. Mello’s erection was now stabbing at my hip, triggering one of my own.

With the hand that wasn’t caressing every inch of my flesh, Mello seized my penis and began massaging it, working his way up slowly from the base to the tip. I shut my eyes and started moaning again.

“Do it faster,” I gasped, and Mello obeyed my command.

He wrapped all of his fingers around my cock this time and swiftly pumped them up and down its length. In the same second he shoved his tongue down my throat and resumed exploring my mouth. I chewed on him and moaned loudly into his lips. Every form of euphoria stirred like wildfire within me.

My body was quickly reaching its limits. I was so close, and I don’t remember ever hating my virginity so much. Mello was strong; despite all my uncontrollable writhing he managed to keep me pinned to one spot. Strong, yet he handled me like a china doll, as if he were afraid to break me. He felt me come onto his hand, and he finally came up for air, smiling down at me as my orgasm slowed to a stop. I was an abject mess, and I knew it, but I honestly didn’t care. I felt so glad that Mello was the only one who’d ever see me this disheveled.

“Commander!”

Judging by how well his voice carried, Sidoh was five steps away from the door and running fast. I didn’t even have time to fear him seeing me naked; that’s how quickly Mello grabbed a bedsheet and threw it over my body. In the same moment the white comforter settled onto my skin, the door flew open and hit a wall.

“Commander—oh, God!”

Mello hadn’t time to save himself, I realized. He was still completely nude and his right hand was coated in semen. Even so, he showed no signs of panic in his response.

“Sidoh, notice how every time you don’t knock, you walk in on a mess.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry, but it’s an emergency.”

“Another one?”

“Zakk beat up Light in the other room. And I think he’s still going!”

Mello was up now, rushing to retrieve his clothes, I bet. “Those weren’t his orders,” he growled, “so why the hell is this happening?”

“I don’t even know!” Sidoh cried. “I left to give them their space, I walked back in and Light had a black eye!”

“He’s ridiculous,” the leader muttered as he slipped on his boots. I heard them swiftly padding out of the room, Sidoh’s sneakers racing to catch up.

“Uh, Commander, you won’t _need_ that knife, right? I’m sure Jack’s got it all under control—”

“Sidoh, stay out of this bedroom, and don’t follow me to the interrogation room. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes… I’m sorry.”

I waited until I heard the door shut behind Sidoh to crawl out from under the blanket.


	6. The Complicated Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I thought this chapter would come out sooner but I hit another wall a few days ago. But I'm over it now! WOO!! XD
> 
> (Please be aware that I switch perspectives about halfway through this chapter. Other than that, enjoy!)

I cleaned myself up in the bathroom and scrubbed the semen off the blanket with a wet towel. I slipped my pajamas back on. They felt strange now that I was no longer using them to hide behind.

Once I had grounded my mind again, it flew right back to the war. Specifically the two warring parties, whom I still knew next to nothing about. One featured a sadistic hitman, and the other was nicknamed “The Rats.” That didn’t tell me anything about who was heading them or why there was such a strong rivalry between them. Even if the two leaders of these groups were intimidated by each other, it didn’t make sense to fight like this when there was plenty of room in a city of a hundred thousand for the both of them. What were they actually after?

_Mello should know all of this by now._

No, I knew that he had that information. This conflict had been going on for eighteen months now, and even if it’d been three, Mello was too smart. That being said, why the hell wasn’t he saying anything?

I went under Mello’s desk and pulled out his laptop. If he wasn’t going to make sense, then I’d make it for him.

Mello had built up an impressive set of barriers to guard his case files. Every folder on the hard drive was locked with its own password, and every file within these folders was encrypted. The computer itself was secured with its own password and a print scanner. This piece of hardware was built and installed by hand; I could tell. I never would’ve pegged him for the tech-savvy type, though.

I’d memorized all of the codes to the Yotsuba and mafia folders. Mello wrote them down for me on a napkin, which I read over and burned ten minutes later. He knew that there was no way this investigation would work if I didn’t have the means to do some independent research.

The Yotsuba group was small. It consisted of eight men in their late thirties to early fifties. They made their home in center city, causing most of their trouble within a fifty-mile radius. And up until about twelve months ago, they’d practically been running rampant.

The eldest man, named Kyosuke Higuchi, had been identified as the leader of the group. His other lackeys had either been charged with or suspected of kidnapping, grand theft, and embezzlement. They’d do anything to get their hands on more assets for their boss. Higuchi was the poster boy for avarice; his background check said it all. The mafia really had nothing to offer them.

They were poor as dirt, with only enough resources to hold down their own fort. These guys were much younger, too; their oldest member was only twenty-seven. The motive for their less than lawful behavior started out as survival, but with the years their drive grew vaguer and their methods more violent. At about the same time Yotsuba went off the grid, there was a huge spike in killings, abductions, and shootouts accredited to the mafia. In six months, this ragtag band of kids chased the veterans all the way out of town.

Mission complete, right?

“No. Whoever these people are, they’re out for Yotsuba’s blood…”

Why else would they spend the next year trying to lure Higuchi and friends out of the rabbit hole? The more damage the mafia does to their supply lines, the more likely they’ll be to come back and try to stop them. If that’s the strategy, then Yotsuba’s clearly allergic to change, and the mafia’s leader knows it.

The man identified as captain of the ship is the team’s youngest, only sixteen. Other than those two details, the boy was a complete mystery.

He apparently didn’t have a name; he’d only ever been referred to as “the boss” or “M.” He was also the only person in the folder without a photograph. If not even Sidoh could get close enough to get a shot, it meant that he kept himself hidden from everyone, on purpose. If there were no photos of him anywhere, it meant he’d been doing that all his life.

_Which is exactly what I had to do at Wammy’s…_

This severe lack of an identity had the orphanage written all over it. And the mafia was such a young organization, too, just four years old. I knew for sure that at least one of us had met its leader before.

The door opened again, and I closed the folder.

“Zakk’s gonna die now, isn’t he?”

“Sidoh, if he wanted him to die he would’ve left him at the warehouse.”

Jack took a seat on the nearest armchair while Sidoh belly-flopped onto the unused bed. Both looked nothing short of exhausted.

“Welcome back,” I started. “Did all of you end up wrestling Light?”

“No, just Zakk and Mello.” Sidoh rolled onto his back. “Actually, Mello’s just fighting Zakk now. And winning.”

“…Okay then?”

Jack heaved a sigh. “See, this is why you’re the picture guy. You couldn’t explain a box of cereal if I asked you to.”

I shut the laptop and spun around in my chair. “In that case, Jack, what the hell is going on in that interrogation room?”

 

_[JACK]_

“It’s getting old, Yagami.” I clicked the second cuff onto the bedpost. “Don’t _you_ ever get tired of being captured?”

“Well, the prison cells you keep coming up with aren’t too shabby, so…”

I really hate that overconfident smirk of his.

“Whatever. Why’s your boss so desperate to take out ‘The Rats?’”

“You think I know?” Light started laughing again. “That’s adorable.”

“I’m not playin’ anymore, all right!?”

I shoved the man into the back wall, pinning him there by his shoulders. “You’re his second-in-command, dammit! Doesn’t he say anything to you?”

“He said find L. Because L knows everything.”

“And you asked no questions, you narcissistic self-righteous prick—you expect me to believe that?”

I was ready to rip his hair out when I heard footsteps.

“No he doesn’t. He’s pulling your leg.”

I sighed. “Go back to bed, Zakk.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snapped. “I’m going to help you out a bit.”

_Great, he’s in a mood._

“So,” Zakk cooed, shoving me to the side and straddling our captive, “tell me more about the omniscient L.”

“Zakk—”

He had his hand over Light’s crotch, slowly stroking it up and down. The man blushed, but any other reaction he could control was suppressed. Of all the times he could’ve picked to pull this revenge dominance bullshit…

“There isn’t much to say,” Light half growled. “He’s the world’s greatest con man; that’s about it.”

“Oh?”

I would’ve wrestled him off under normal circumstances, but the last thing I wanted to do was upset Zakk’s stitches. I settled for a headlock.

“Can the adults get back to the point now!?”

Zakk glared at me. “This _is_ the point, you idiot.”

I waited a few seconds before letting him go. Sure, Light got on my nerves, but Zakk was another one.

“Fine, continue.”

I slid Zakk off of Light’s lap, and the prisoner sat himself up straighter before elaborating.

“L is a fraud. He pretends to crusade for justice when really he only takes on cases that he has a personal interest in. It’s whatever jigsaw puzzle he feels like solving on any given day. And it just so happens that his current project is the Yotsuba group. But only because they’ve killed three dozen people and sucked center city dry.” Light rolled his eyes. “L knows exactly where those men are. He just doesn’t want the real heroes to interfere with his little game.”

“Wow,” I huffed. “Has anyone ever told you how great you are at spinning stories?”

“Figured you wouldn’t believe me. Oh, well.” Light folded his arms and shrugged.

I stood back up. “Yagami, L’s been incommunicado ever since he entered the scene two years ago. Just how in the hell does your boss know so much about him?”

“Two years ago my ass. L goes by many names, you know.” He counted them on his fingers. “Ryuzaki, Eraldo Coil, Deneuve…”

“Deneuve??” I repeated. “Now you’re really pulling my leg, boy.”

“Except I’m serious. Just ask Mello.”

“Mello?”

Light chuckled again. “Yeah. Boss told me all about him. They were kind of forced in on the secret.”

Zakk finally woke up. “Hold on—they knew each other?”

“Yes. But they split up a long time ago.”

I blinked a few times. “So Mello and your boss worked together once?”

“You mean he didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Zakk shot back, “because he’d never work for dipshits like you.”

“The poor thing!” Light cried. “Couldn’t stand to break your heart with that story?”

“There’s no story to _tell,_ you douchebag.”

“Zakk, stop buying into his garbage,” I snarled. “Either shut up and let me do my job or get out.”

I didn’t know what it was about Zakk that made him so bipolar, and I’d stopped trying to figure it out. One minute, he was pissing all over Mello, and the next he was defending him like he was his own son. He was random, impulsive, and made no sense, and he was ninety percent of the reason why we’d gotten jack-shit done on this case. I’d have thrown him out the window already if Mello wouldn’t kill me for it later.

“He’s even more shameless than L,” Light rambled on. “Wants to play the innocent savior when he’s the cause of this mess. Cleverly stalling progress so that the skeletons don’t fall out of the closet. Perfect crime, huh?”

I blinked, and Zakk was back on top of Light. He’d punched him in the face; the skin around our captive’s left eye was starting to swell. “Say another word, I dare you!” he shouted.

I ran over to wrestle him down, and he punched me in the gut. I fell to the ground, trying desperately to recover the wind that got knocked out of me. I didn’t even notice Sidoh open the door at that moment.

“Hey, where’s the—oh crap.” He took off like a cheetah. “Commander!”

Light half-opened his mouth, and Zakk struck him again. “Mello’s past is none of your fucking business,” he spat at him, “much less is it your area of expertise. And it has nothing to do with how he’ll beat your ass in the near future.”

“Overprotective, are we?” Light sneered at his attacker. “You must care about him a lot. But Mello refuses to return any of that affection, no?”

Zakk completely snapped after that, and the two of them got into a brawl that I couldn’t safely insert myself into. Light forgot he was chained to my bed and almost tipped it over twice. Not even half a minute passed before Mello marched in with a knife.

“Zakk! You wanna get cut in half this time?”

Zakk heard the commander’s voice and slowed to a stop. Mello put the tip of the knife to his neck and he didn’t move a muscle. Light, who now had two black eyes and a bloody nose, pulled his legs out from under Zakk’s torso.

“I thought I told you to rest, Zakk. What the hell are you doing here?”

“A better job than Twinkle-Toes Neylon, that’s what.”

Mello jabbed Zakk’s Adam’s apple. I couldn’t tell if the scratch he left was accidental or deliberate. “This is why I assigned Jack to interrogation this time,” he went on. “You blow up at every little thing Light says when you know very well he’s a mentalist.”

“What?” Light groaned. “Mello, he’s crazy. I start talking about your mafia shift and he goes off on me.”

“My what?”

“Exactly; he’s _really_ trying to screw with our heads now!” Zakk balled his fists and took a deep breath. “Look, Commander, I already don’t trust you with a lot of shit. I just… didn’t want him adding to the list.”

Zakk wanted to get up and walk away, but Mello held him back. “You’ve been tortured enough, Jack. The rest of the day’s yours.”

Because I’m not a horrible person, I wished Zakk the best of luck as I exited the bedroom.


	7. The Ghost Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's official, guys: the universe hates me. I get inspiration, and it beats me down until I lose it. Hate when that happens...

_[NEAR]_

Jack left me shortly after giving his report on the interrogation. Sidoh hung around for another fifteen minutes because he thought I’d get lonely. That’s how long it took to convince him that I’d be fine without his presence.

I didn’t see Mello again until 8 AM the next morning.

He looked like he’d gotten no sleep at all. He wore a wife beater and an old pair of sweatpants, and his hair was a tangled mess. He’d gotten himself a cup of coffee but it didn’t seem to be helping. I was sitting at the desk searching in vain for more details when he came in. I moved out of his way so he could take a bar of chocolate from the drawer.

“It’s been a while, Mello. What’s new?”

“Light will be leaving us this afternoon.” Mello found a comb and started running it through his hair. “If he takes proper care of it his eye should heal up fine by tomorrow morning.”

I almost asked why in the hell we were releasing this volatile monster when I remembered that he had another job. A long string of sick days for a man with near perfect attendance would inspire concern at the very least. For that reason I was glad that Light would heal quickly. If he had to try and explain any injuries that happened during his absence, we’d have the police investigating all of us in no time.

I closed the laptop. “What about Zakk? Did you figure out what’s wrong with him?”

“I hope so…”

“You’re not positive? What happened?”

Mello dropped the comb and snapped his chocolate bar in half. “Light got to his head,” he grumbled. “I don’t know what he said, but it’s why he got punched out.”

I sighed. “Why is it that he acts like such a child on such a serious assignment?”

“Whatever it is, he’s… too stubborn to tell me.”

Mello put his food down and went into the bathroom. The shower started running. And I wrestled with myself.

Was Light really just bluffing? I had reason to believe that he wasn’t after how Mello had responded to me. He refused to address Light’s accusations despite being aware of them. Normally investigators share these types of details with each other to decipher motives and potential schemes. Mello also feigned ignorance of Zakk’s feelings even though he dropped a pretty large hint. He doesn’t want any more reasons to dislike him than he already does… and he probably gets a thrill out of defending Mello, too, judging by the way he overreacted.

Now that I thought about it, Zakk openly displayed a lot of concern for Mello. It would be endearing if it weren’t coming from somebody over ten years older than him. I classify that as pedophilic obsession.

“…Is that why he’s avoiding the subject?”

 

That evening Mello threw on a jacket and made to walk out the door. “I’m going for a run,” he said. “Don’t follow me.”

“Why would I?”

He shoved a hand into his pocket. “I don’t know…”

I sighed again. “Mello, I feel like—I know you’re keeping secrets from everyone.”

“So what if I am?” He turned the doorknob. “Everybody’s got ‘em; it’s not news.”

“I mean secrets related to the case, genius. There’s something you're not telling us.”

“Who told you that, Zakk?”

“No.” I twirled my hair. “Rhymes with Zakk.”

Mello let go of the door and turned back around.

“He told me everything about the interrogation, even the part where you waltzed in. Light claimed you were with the mafia once, which you had no comment about this morning.”

“Because there’s nothing to comment on,” Mello insisted. “Light’s blowing smoke to turn us against each other, and you’re falling for it.”

“If it was a thought in his mind, then there’s a slight possibility that it’s true.”

“And what proof do you have of that?”

“Little at the moment.”

“You’re searching for it?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Mello fell back against the wall. “I don’t know… I just figured that we had a little more trust than that.”

“Oh, so now you want to be above suspicion?” I deduced. “That only makes me _more_ suspicious of you.”

“Great. Search away, Near, ‘cause you’re not gonna find anything.”

With that, he swung the door open and hurried out of the room.

 

“Near… whatcha doin’?”

I had searched through every file possible on Mello’s laptop and came up empty when Sidoh crept up behind me. “Why aren’t you in bed yet?” I sighed.

“I was _going_ to bed,” he explained, “but I saw that you still had the lights on and it’s eleven-something.”

“Is it…”

“Hey, where’s Mello?”

I shut the laptop down. “No idea.”

“He ran away again, didn’t he?”

“He does this often?” I queried.

Sidoh found himself a chair. “Yeah, whenever the investigation gets heated, he goes out for the night and doesn’t come back until early in the morning. Usually sweating a lot ‘cause he’s been running for hours.”

I filed that information away for later.

“You were… on your way to bed?”

“Oh right sorry. I’m gonna go now.”

Sidoh darted out of the bedroom, and I retired for the night.

 

I found Mello sprawled out on the other bed on Monday morning, sticky with sweat just as Sidoh had described it. I stared at him for a while, noting how peaceful and… beautiful he was when he was fast asleep. Yes, he looked much better this way.

Not that I felt particularly terrible for making him upset the previous day. Universal skepticism is just a part of the process, and he knows that. Whatever was going on in that pretty blond head of his, I’d get him to confess eventually.

But for now, I just couldn’t seem to help myself. I leaned over and gently caressed his lips with my own. I figured it was an irrational sensation, but I felt oddly empowered by the control I had over that kiss. That is, the control I had before Mello began kissing me back.

He started slow and sped up quickly. He seized both my arms rather violently; I briefly lost my balance. Once Mello had had his fill, he flung me onto the bed and flipped himself on top of me. I knew he took more pleasure in dominating me again then he let on.

“You clever bastard.”

I didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or irritated. I settled for neither.

“You weren’t the least bit afraid to take advantage of me like that, were you?” Without looking, Mello found my scrotum and gave it a few quick squeezes. “I'm going to need payback for that later.”

And he left me to take a shower. I loved and hated the ease with which he could make me so damn red in the face.

I had to hide the beginnings of an erection from Sidoh. He was carrying his laptop and screaming fit to wake the dead. “Where’s Mello?” he kept wailing. “Where’s the commander??”

“In the bathroom, presently.”

“Well tell him to get the fuck out; we’re being hacked again!”

I sprang upright. “Hacked?”

“Uh, Near, you good? You’re bright red.”

“Running a fever,” I replied. “Don’t worry about—”

_Boom!_

The noise came from the shower stall; I could tell by the way it echoed. I ran up to the door and banged on it three times.

“Mello?”

When no one responded, I unlocked the door myself and went in. Mello was on his knees in the stall, balancing himself on the wall before him with both hands. The water was still running down his back, and he looked pale as a ghost. I don’t think he even noticed me until I reached over him to turn the water off.

“Mello, what happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

“You’re lying again. You look far from—”

“I said I’m fine! Leave me alone!”

Mello seriously startled me. I didn’t think he had the strength to lash out at me like that.

“Commander! Need help, like, yesterday!”

He pushed himself to his feet, threw on a robe and a towel for his hair, and rushed out of the bathroom. It dizzied him to move so fast, I could see it on his face, but he ignored it. Sidoh practically shoved his computer into Mello’s arms the minute he stepped out.

“Ghost is back…”

“Figured.” Mello got down on the floor, and his battle with the hacker commenced immediately. He worked as he talked to the two of us, not even needing to think about what he was typing.

“What am I working with, Sidoh?”

“A… handful of firewalls?”

“So binary cardboard.”

“That’s all I know how to do! I’m sorry!”

“Dude, I’m messing with you. Good work.”

Sidoh seemed a bit stunned by that comment.

For fifteen seconds, Mello had everything under control. Then notices of breaches came flooding in like tidal waves. Ghost was attacking our sensitive case files.

There was no apparent rhyme or reason to the documents that Ghost hacked. He broke in at random and left folders as quickly as he entered them. Colors on the screen started inverting themselves sporadically. “Near, there’s a blue jump drive in the top drawer of my desk,” he told me. “Find it and toss it to me, quick.”

The drive had its own little corner in the drawer, completely unobstructed by other objects. Mello jammed it into a USB port and continued to assault the keyboard. He was becoming overwhelmed, but once his kill switch kicked in he began to relax.

“Dammit… he almost got me.”

“What happened to my laptop, Commander?”

“I wiped it clean,” Mello sighed. “It was the only way I could protect the data, the way he was coming at it today.”

Sidoh pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, great, now I’ve got _nothing._ Thanks, Ghost.”

A dialog box popped up on the screen. It said: _Check the downloads folder._

“It’s a virus,” Sidoh insisted, “Don’t open it.”

“What have you got to lose?” I asked him. “Didn’t Mello just say he deleted all the data you had on there?”

Mello launched the file explorer. “Sidoh, if it breaks, I’ll force Ross to buy you a better one, okay?”

“Whatever; just get it over with.”

Fortunately, no virus manifested itself when Mello opened the folder or the JPEG file within it. Still, Ghost left us all one hell of a present:

**_SCARED YOU THIS TIME, HUH?_ **

**_MAYBE THIS WILL CHEER YOU UP._ **

Below the words was a cartoon rendition of a chocolate bar. Sidoh’s jaw almost hit the floor.

“Whoa-whoa-whoa, hold on, _stop_ the _truck._ Ghost knows about your chocolate addiction?”

Mello held his head. “Oh, Goddammit…”

“Mello, what’s going on? How does Ghost know you?”

“Near…”

Mello couldn’t keep himself upright long enough to finish that thought. He fell sideways into my lap.

_[MELLO]_

_“He moved! Near, did you see that??”_

_“Yes I did, Sidoh.”_

_“He flexed his fingers just now. He’s not dead!”_

_“I am aware…”_

Jeez, Sidoh. You really are ten years old.

I didn’t quite have enough strength to open my eyes just yet. For a few minutes, I focused on breathing and wondered how long I’d been out. Of all the times for the flood gates of hell to unlatch themselves…

“Mello, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Great. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Near, he still looks terrible,” Sidoh interjected. “Can’t we wait until he can _sit up_ before grilling him?”

“No.”

“Okay…”

I opened my eyes after that and forced myself upright, resting my back on the headboard of the bed. “There. Is that better, Sidoh?”

“No; dude, chill! You just woke up!”

“So what? Doesn’t mean I’m disabled.”

Near was staring me down with the same stony eyes I saw at the river. When was that… a little over a week ago? God, it amazed and frightened me how rapidly I’d let him in. And now here he was, about to break down a platinum wall I was hoping to keep up for another few months. _Not a whole lot I can do about that now, huh?_

 _Curse my fucking emotions._ They were the cause of ninety percent of my problems, and they were the reason why I secretly envied the little albino. Save his suicide attempt ten long nights ago, he was completely unaffected by passion. Equanimity was in his bones. Me, on the other hand… life starts triggering flashbacks and in twenty minutes I’m out like a light. I absolutely despised my weakness.

So I figured the least I could do to make up for this humiliation was to suck it up and come clean. I’d been painted into a corner, and I knew Near had been onto me since Sunday morning. I took a breath and sorted my next words out in my head.

“Well, Mello?”

“…Ghost’s name is Matt. He’s the leader of the Colt Valley mafia, and we used to be a team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank-you to everyone who's read and left kudos so far! Feedback is always appreciated as well; let me know how I'm doing!


	8. The Friend Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... it's been exactly one week since my last update. That's, like, a miracle. Maybe I'll stick with Saturday as my official update day. Maybe...
> 
> Anyway, Mello's going to be taking over the narration for the next few chapters as we explore his past and his plans for the future. I hope you enjoy this first installment of his story!

_[MELLO]_

I was brought into Wammy’s House at the age of two and a half. My mother, a chemist, died in a lab accident, and my intelligence was too much for my father to handle alone. He gave me up to Watari, and I started classes as soon as physically possible. I learned quickly and loved the challenge of it all. I became one of the institution’s top students in a matter of months. When I was four years old, Watari told me about Deneuve, and I made my mission in life staying at the top. Someday, I promised myself, I’d be the one to succeed this legendary man.

Sadly, my optimism was short-lived. When I turned five, I was brave enough to enter the social scene, and I was almost instantly rejected by everyone at Wammy’s. Some were scared of me because I always wore black from head to toe and never smiled. Others laughed and pointed because my small frame and shoulder-length hair made me look like a girl. Every day, I’d pass other kids in the halls and either get shunned or slammed against a wall. I hid from them in my room, behind piles of books and mock case files. I learned to love the solitude. And then right before I turned six Roger had to assign me a roommate.

I practically begged him to reconsider and leave me be. The last thing I needed was being forced to live with one of my bullies; I’d never be able to focus on my studies. But I was powerless to stop anything. Orders from Watari: he said that I had a lot of potential, but he was worried that self-imposed isolation would prevent me from really thriving. I loved the man, but in that moment I legitimately thought Watari had lost it.

Three days after my temper tantrum the boy arrived. He was scheduled to enter at 7 PM that night, so at 6:58 I hid under my bed and waited. I heard the door swing open and hit the wall, making me jump. My roommate rolled his suitcase in and stopped.

“Hello…? Anybody here…?”

I didn’t recognize the voice.

_No, you’re just too nervous. Listen harder…_

The boy walked further into the room. I could now see his navy blue slippers from where I lied.

“Uh, Mello? You there?”

_Yeah, I’ve never heard it before. Maybe he’s one of those quiet kids._

“Is he in the bathroom? No, the door’s wide open… or is he hiding in the tub?”

“I’m right here.”

The boy turned around and screamed when he saw my head poking out from under the bed. I startled him so badly he fell over backwards. I wriggled out of my hiding place and helped him up. And I noticed that I’d really never seen this kid before in my life.

He was an inch or so taller than me, with reddish-brown hair and wide eyes. I couldn’t tell what color they were because he wore orange-tinted googles over them. He seemed to be fond of stripes, too; his shirt was covered in red and black ones.

“Sorry… didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t worry; I’m fine.”

I dusted off my clothes and fixed my hair. “So Roger already told you about me?”

“Uh-huh. Well, just your name and what you look like.”

“But how come I haven’t heard anything about you?”

“Probably because I just got here this afternoon.” He held out his hand to me. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

I took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Matt.”

 

I was greatly relieved by the fact that Matt was new to Wammy’s House. That meant (hopefully) my tormentors hadn’t met him or told him any stories about me yet. If I was smart about it, I believed I could make an ally out of him. _And since he doesn’t do a whole lot of talking himself, the job will be pretty easy._

Yeah, that ended up being a lie. Matt spent all of his free time playing video games. And he apparently had a lot of free time.

The day after he arrived I asked him to turn the noise down on his handheld because I was trying to study for a French exam. Matt didn’t hear me the first three times because his mind was off in the pixelated world on the screen.

_“Matt!!”_

This kid scared way too easily. He dropped his handheld, and the music finally stopped. “Shoot, I lost! Mello, look what you did!”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t get your attention.” I held up my bilingual dictionaries. “I have a huge test tomorrow, and I can’t focus because your game is too loud!”

Matt gave the dictionaries an odd look. “Why are you stressing about something like _that?_ I thought you spoke nearly fluent French.”

“And who told you that?”

“Watari. He told me you can speak Spanish, German, and Russian, too.”

I put the books down and stared at him. “Yeah, well… my French is a little rusty.”

 _“Tu mens.”_ (You’re lying.)

 _“Tu n’es pas drôle.”_ (You’re not funny.)

Matt sighed and walked over to my desk. “Mello,” he said, “Watari told me you’re the brightest young mind to ever grace the halls of this school. What else do you need to prove to anyone here?”

“Well… he’s not _here,_ ” I replied. “But someday, I’m determined to take up his position.”

Matt slapped his palms down on the desk and leaned over it. “You mean Deneuve?”

“No, I mean Roger!”

I caught myself raising my voice and took a deep breath. “Matt, if nobody in this entire stupid house wants to accept me, then you bet I’m gonna make sure that he will. He has to…”

“Oh. So that’s why Number One feels inferior.” Matt found a chair and sat down next to me. “Well guess what? You’re wrong, Mello.”

“What?”

“There is one person in this entire stupid house who’s willing to accept you.” Matt put a hand on my lap. “He has red hair… and green eyes… and may or may not continue to annoy the heck out of you with his Game Boy…”

I almost didn’t know how to respond to that.

“…You’re serious?”

Matt smiled and nodded, and I accepted his hug. For the next five years, the two of us were inseparable friends.

 

I honestly don’t know how Matt put up with me for so long. As I got older, I became more obsessed with my appearance and my rank against the other students. For a while he tried hiding the fact that he was number two just so I wouldn’t have a conniption. I also developed a habit of vocalizing my emotions all the time, and they were usually quite violent ones. But Matt found his ways to quiet the storms. He was my rock through all the years when the bullying got worse.

Sometime around my eleventh birthday, I started to get very confused. A gang of older teenage boys had beaten me terribly one day when they found me alone in a courtyard. That night Matt had to practically cradle me in his arms to quell my rage. As always, his voice and his touch got the job done, but now a new feeling was forming in my gut. I felt like I could let my guard down completely, which is something I never did, not even around him. I wanted to turn my head around, reach up and…

_Kiss him?_

_…What?_

“Mello, what’s the matter? What’d I say?”

I had tensed up without even realizing it. “No, it’s not you,” I replied. “I’m… going to bed now.”

“At seven-thirty? Dinner’s just about to start!”

“It’s fine; I’m not very hungry anyway.”

Matt left me alone, but not before properly draping my blanket over my body.

 

Our friendship only got more awkward with every passing week. We still hung out together and talked occasionally, but Matt made a point of making less physical contact with me. After a few months I stopped seeing him outside of class altogether, and when I did he’d refuse to face me. I didn’t understand what was going on with him, and it frustrated the hell out of me.

I buried myself deeper in my books so I didn’t have to think so much about all this. _So… I’m_ gay, _and I fell in love with my best friend… and now he keeps avoiding me because he knows, I’m not good at hiding it, and he’s disgusted by it—_

“No, shut up!”

Screaming at myself was another bad habit I’d developed.

“Shut up about what?” BB reiterated from the door.

Literally, I could deal with any other one of the bullies I had at Wammy’s—just not _him._ He was psychotic and knew no limits. He belonged in Broadmoor, not this orphanage, except Watari would never send him. BB was number three; they couldn’t hold him if they tried.

I shut my books. “Nothing; get out.”

“Oh, no, he’s snapping at me! I’m _so scared…_ ”

I felt BB’s icy breath crawl down my back. I had to clench all my muscles to keep myself from shivering.

“If you’re here for a fight I’ll gladly give you one, creep.”

BB had the most unsettling laughter of any living thing. “Well, judging by what happened to you last April, I think we all know who's going to win that fight.”

“What do you—?”

_God-freaking-dammit._

For a minute I forgot I was a beanpole who stood only sixty-three inches tall. I jumped out of my chair and punched BB square in the stomach. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you??” I shouted. “They all but ripped me in half, you know!”

“Funny, my exact orders were to _snap_ you in half, but clearly Marty couldn’t seem to do that.”

“Just how many henchmen do you _have,_ BB?”

His eyes glowed like Christmas lights at the thought of this. Don’t ask me why, but for a second they almost looked red. “A lot, Mello. That’s all you need to know.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” I balled my fists again. “You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me so easily. I’m winning here. _I’m_ number one, and Deneuve will choose _me_ to be his successor! And I'm not gonna let you or anybody here take that away from me!”

“Cute speech,” BB cooed before he slammed my head into the wall. “Hmm, I wonder what it would look like in there if I cracked it open…”

“You get off—!”

Wrestling BB was a hopeless effort. He was two years my senior and inhumanly strong. My head got knocked around until my vision spun, and I could feel my nose and ears bleeding. Excruciating pain gripped my arms and torso as he pounded them repeatedly. Soon it hurt to breathe. BB struck my rib cage, and I heard a bone snap. He then hurled me to the ground, laughing maniacally at my strangled cries of agony.

“I can get rid of you whenever the hell I want,” BB whispered. “Just not right away. It’s more fun for me to watch you suffer.”

He turned me onto my stomach, sat on my legs, crossed my arms behind my back, and bent me backwards as far as I would go. The two halves of my broken rib were slipping further out of place. My vision was going black in spots, the pain was so overwhelming. I tried to scream for help, and I coughed up blood.

“See this? _Defenseless._ Your hero would _never_ approve…”

I’m sure I was bruised from head to toe at this point. My bluster had been extinguished, and I was now a tearful, bloodied mess. I wanted nothing more than for him to snap my neck already and put me out of my misery. Thankfully, though, I had enough sense not to beg for it. No way in hell I’d give him that pleasure.

When BB got tired of stretching me out, he stripped me of my shirt and flipped me over again. He marveled at all the black-and-blue patches that sullied my skin, running his hands over them and pressing his thumbs into them. I squirmed and whimpered underneath him; it was all I could do not to start crying again. More black spots clouded my vision until all I could see were a demon’s eyes through two little pinholes.

All of a sudden that demon started handling me like a china doll. He stroked my arms and nuzzled his face against mine. In a soft voice that wasn’t quite a whisper, BB said to me, “I'm sorry, I’m so sorry… I got carried away. Please forgive me.”

He planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “I love you, Mello.”

BB waited a few seconds before lifting his head. He removed himself completely from my body, and a hard kick to the side let me know he’d returned to himself. “It’s half past nine now. Sounds like your bedtime, no?” He threw my shirt back at me. “Sweet dreams, _Mihael Keehl._ ”

That was the last thing I heard before I passed out.

 

I woke up the next morning in the infirmary. The pieces of my lower rib had been set back into place, and I smelled strongly of Aloe Vera. I’d also been shot up with a hell of a lot of anesthesia, I figured, because I felt zero pain. A cart next to my bed had a tray on it with my breakfast: a glass of milk, an orange, and a chocolate chip muffin. The same thing I got every day, early in the morning when there was no line…

A young nurse walked by my bed, and her eyes lit up when she saw that I was awake. “Good morning, Mello,” she chirped. “How are you feeling? Have you eaten anything yet?”

“Well, fine, since I’m not hurting anymore. And no, I haven’t eaten.”

“Your friend brought it up for you, the one with the little goggles. He wanted me to tell you that.”

I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I figured it was him.”

The nurse’s smile wavered.

“What is it?”

“Hmm, no use trying to lie to our top student, is there?” She began reapplying gel to my bruises. “I invited Matt to stay until you came to, but he turned down my offer. He seemed rather… traumatized.”

Looking back on it, “traumatized” was the world’s greatest understatement.

Matt always came back to our dorm sometime around nine-thirty to tuck himself into bed. He’d peel me away from my books by force, shut out the lights, and that was it. But not this time, because BB had been watching us, and he planned the time of his attack accordingly. He wanted Matt to catch me all mangled up, moaning and sighing under his soft touch as if I was enjoying it. And Matt _hated_ this creep; he’d be outraged if he thought that we were partners of any kind. BB sensed that our once tight friendship was faltering, and his mission that night was to wreck it for good.

He knew that it would wreck me, too.

 

September 29, 2008. Some ungodly hour when I was sure no one was awake. It had been about six weeks since BB attacked, and my bruises and broken rib had fully healed. I spent all my time in the infirmary either eating, sleeping, or studying. My nurse, Lauren, made okay company, but I still missed Matt. I didn’t see him once since I was first admitted, not even for a second.

His gorgeous sleeping figure was the last thing I saw before I ran away. All I’d take with me was a stolen gun, a change of clothes, and a few hundred dollars. I opened the window, and Matt shivered as the frigid breeze passed over his bed. I planted a kiss on his flushed face, took a deep breath, and jumped out. I never saw Wammy’s House again.


	9. The Job Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: NON-CON STRAIGHT AHEAD!!!

_[MELLO]_

Over the next six months, my innocence died a slow and painful death.

I made my living on the streets, selling drugs and weapons to any shady character who dropped by. I learned how to shoot a gun through experience, when those shady characters had other plans up their sleeves. My job in the black market was fairly successful but not enough to sustain me for long. I lived in the city now, far removed from the quiet, secluded world of the orphanage. Even without an apartment, the cost of living was a metric fuck-ton.

By the time winter rolled around, I was stuck with a half-empty stomach and a broken cardboard box for a blanket. But I could ignore this discomfort, because by then I’d almost gotten shot to death at least… seven times. I could deal with going quietly like this.

 _…What am I_ doing _here?_

I’d ask myself this question every time I woke up from a nightmare. The one where a demon tore me to pieces, or the one where an angel shut me out of heaven. Even with all its cruelty and lonesomeness, my heart still called that place home. At least at Wammy’s a few people acknowledged that I really had a place there.

 

Spring saved me. Sort of.

March 11th, 2009. I waited in an alley on 7th and Cane for my only client of the week. I kept my hands fisted so he wouldn’t see them shaking when he arrived. This was my least favorite part of the job: waiting. Wondering whether or not this was a guy (or group of guys) I’d be able to face. Yes, I’d been at this for almost six months now, but I still felt like the world’s greenest rookie.

The man came alone. He wore a brown suit with no tie and a matching fedora. He kept his head down as he approached, low enough that the rim of the hat would hide his face from me. He searched through his jacket for my pay. Just in case he was searching for a gun, I kept my right fist at my side, where I had mine. He handed me a wad of cash, and I handed him a little bag full of coke.

This man didn’t leave right away. He lifted his head to slowly look me up and down. “Is there a problem, sir?” I snapped when his eyes started making another round.

“No… no problem at all…”

I took a few steps backwards into the alley, and the stranger seized my wrist and pulled me back. “Where are you going so soon?”

“I’m meeting other people tonight,” I growled. “Don’t you have places to be, too?”

He flashed a crazy smile. “Of course. That place is _here._ ”

“You have two seconds to let me go, freak.”

“Or else what, little boy?”

I kicked the man in the groin. He fell to his knees, and I pulled out my gun. “Or else you get two in the head, that’s what!”

“Hmm, feisty. My friends are going to love you.”

“Oh, what friends?”

I clicked a bullet into the chamber, but he wouldn’t wipe that stupid smirk off his face. “I have a team, you know,” he purred. “When I was your age I was a lone wolf, too. And then being taken in by my master became the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It could be for you, too.”

“Put a damn sock in it—”

“I used to have no spine. My old self would never have confronted you. But now that my team’s shaped me up and still has my back, I have total confidence that I won’t die at the hands of a stupid child tonight.”

_“Shut up!!”_

I shot him in the arm, and the man fully collapsed. He grabbed his bleeding limb and cried out in pain. I flipped him onto his back and planted my boot on his throat.

“Are you drunk or something? You really believe that kind of crap? Look, moron, nobody has any friends out here. Anyone who calls you a teammate is lying through his teeth. You’re nothing but a tool to those guys, a means to an end. And believe me when I tell you that you’re completely expendable.” I stepped off of my victim. “By the way, thanks for letting me know they’re coming. I’ll be sure to tell them all about their lap dog’s remarkable service.”

Just for good measure, I put a bullet through each of his shoes before running away.

 

March 12th, 2009. I didn’t sleep that night. I sat in the corner of an alley with my shotgun under my legs, my fingers hovering over its handle. I had yet to find any signs that my creepy customer’s team was indeed following me. It did what little sanity I had left no good.

The first gunshot almost stopped my heart. The bullet hit the wall above my head and put a dent in it before crashing on the pavement. I stood and held my pistol out in front of me, searching for the shooter. I slowly approached the street in front of me, wishing I had two guns to cover both my blind spots around the corners…

I stopped halfway through the alley. _Idiot; you have more than two._

I turned back to look at the dent in the wall. Just as I feared, the bullet didn’t go straight into it but down on a diagonal instead. I pointed my gun up to the roof, and the snipers made it rain on me. I bolted and didn’t look back after that.

I made it a good number of paces down the block when a man in a suit and a fedora jumped out at me. He had a gun trained on me, but I shot him in the chest before he could fire it. Next I got ambushed by four different men in the exact same outfit. Two of them fell to my bullets, but the others were too fast for me. The larger man went around and charged me from behind. He wrapped his arms around the top and bottom of my torso, rendering me immobile. His grip was so tight I couldn’t wrestle him off. His spectacled accomplice shoved a damp cloth into my face. In a matter of seconds I lost all consciousness.

 

 _“He’s_ beautiful, _Shimura. You’re getting a raise.”_

I woke up in a colorless room with no windows. I had no chains or ropes about me, but I soon realized they weren’t necessary. The chloroform was still making me woozy.

To my right was a king size bed with faded white linens. In front of me a man with a chilling sneer sat in a red armchair. At his side stood my deluded client from the previous night. His expression looked like he was constantly seeing ghosts. “Thank you so much, Master Higuchi,” he recited.

“Don’t get too excited, though,” Higuchi interjected.  “I didn’t forget your sloppy job from yesterday.”

“I understand.”

Shimura was suddenly reminded of something, and he winced as he shifted his weight around. I put two holes in his feet, I recalled. He was probably being forced to stand.

Higuchi rested his head on his fist. “Well, I think I’ve tortured you enough. Go see what Kida’s doing.”

Shimura stumbled out the door behind him, and I heard it lock as it shut.

Higuchi didn’t do anything for the next ten minutes. He just wandered around that door and waited for me to gather my bearings. When I started snarling at him, he moved his chair in front of it about three inches off the wall. The man sat down again and sighed.

“I’m sorry about this.”

“What?”

Higuchi folded his right leg over his left. “If I had my way, we’d have taken you quietly,” he continued. “However, considering your… fiery personality, I realized that wasn’t an option.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I was on my feet now. “You think I can’t see right through all your lies?”

“That wasn’t a lie.”

“I’m not letting my guard down around you. Ever.”

“…What’s your name, dear?”

Higuchi’s eyes were perpetually locked on my body. I tightened my fists and spat my alias at his feet.

“Mello,” he repeated as if in a trance. “Unusual, but beautiful nonetheless.”

“Will you _shut up?_ ”

I got Higuchi to jump slightly, just slightly. Other than that he didn’t budge.

“You’ve been staring at me like that for the past fifteen minutes,” I barked as I marched up to him. “Just tell me what the hell I’m here for already.”

He wasted no time with his three-word answer:

“Dance for me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” The smirk that spread across Higuchi’s face twisted my stomach into a knot.

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m not very good at—”

“I didn’t ask for a choreographed routine.” He leaned into my ear. “Dance for me, Mello.”

Trust me, I knew very well what Higuchi was going to ask of me all this time. I just desperately needed it, by some miracle, to not be real.

Ever so slightly, the room started to spin. Suddenly I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. For once in my life I didn’t know what to do. How on God’s earth I was supposed to move was virtually lost on me. Still, there was no slinking my way out of this trap, now that I was completely defenseless.

So I shut my eyes and thought of the one boy who could possibly inspire sexuality in me. I could see his face clear as day, the one I had wet dreams about every other night. I imagined him pinning me to a wall, pressing every ounce of passion he had into my flesh. In rhythm with my fantasy, my hips began to sway.

Higuchi watched with way too much enthusiasm. His soft, deep laughter rattled me as I rolled my body and ran my hands along my clothes. I refused to open my eyes, because I knew that if they landed on this man I would get violently sick.

Big mistake; he shot up from his chair, grabbed me by the waist, and yanked me onto his lap. “Keep going,” he purred, “but do it closer to me.”

“I’m not humping you, Higuchi.”

“Yes, you are.” Amazing how humiliating it is to have your own gun pointed straight at your chest.

I drew in a quivering breath, steadied my hands on the man’s shoulders, and started grinding my hips against his. More of Higuchi’s disturbing chuckles shook me to my core. He pushed down hard on my waist, demanding more speed and conviction. Reluctantly, I gave it to him, trembling all the while. I felt disgusting. Out of nowhere, the man squeezed my ass, and I jumped.

“Tell me how this feels, Mello.”

“I hate it,” I snapped, daring to slow down. “This feels like abuse, which it is.” I shuddered. “You need to go drink a gallon of bleach and leave me the hell alone!”

“Well, well, Mello doesn’t mess around,” Higuchi mused. “I must admit, your tenacity is quite arousing.”

“Stop it.”

“And you have a beautiful body.”

“Shut up—”

“Don’t resist me.” Higuchi gingerly stroked my arm. “I’d never try to break you in if I knew you didn’t want it, Mello-dear.”

“Not from you, okay!?”

I thrust off my captor’s hand and leapt out of the chair. I glared daggers into his rotten soul; now I was shaking with rage.

“I’m a thirteen-year-old boy, and you’re a fifty-year-old man! You do realize that I’m making shit up as I go along, that I have no clue what I’m doing, right?”

“Really?” Higuchi bust up laughing. “Well, you’re damn good at this for somebody who claims to be a virgin.”

“Quit talking to me like that, Higuchi!”

The mob boss rose from his perch. “Same to you, stupid boy…”

His huge frame started stalking towards me. I tried to duck out of the way, but Higuchi was too quick. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and swooped me into his embrace.

Yes, a hug. Not a beating.

The man caressed my back, and I shivered. “Mello-dear, you’re nothing short of a gem. A raw, natural talent. I want only to end your lonely suffering, believe me. I’ll take you under my wing and teach you everything you need to know to perform your new job.”

“Job…”

“Yes, a job,” Higuchi whispered to me. “One where you’ll bring pleasure to plenty of people. The same way you bring pleasure to me.”

Something was happening in the pit of my stomach that I didn’t like at all. My mind was racing, and I felt myself hyperventilating. The longer I stayed there, wrapped up in Higuchi’s arms, the less I could deny how _nice_ it felt there. As much as I wanted to hate that man, and as much as I knew that I had to, I just… couldn’t. His embrace felt like a father’s.

The one that I never had.

Higuchi started by sliding off my leather jacket. “Don’t be afraid,” he cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Then my shirt. “You’ll learn to enjoy this, once you’ve honed your abilities.”

Then my pants. “I’ll make you feel beautiful, Mello-dear.”

A chill went down my spine, and finally I came to my senses, seizing Higuchi’s wrist before his thumb could pull off my briefs. Here I was, almost stark naked in front of a grown-ass man, and I let it happen. I let him seduce me into submission. This man was crafty, toying with my emotions and turning my resolve to jelly. I needed to show him that I wasn’t his little bitch.

But in truth, thirteen-year-old Mello was no match for Kyousuke Higuchi.

_“Trust me.”_

He got down on one knee and planted a soft kiss just above my cock. If I recall correctly, he even licked it a tiny bit. I clearly remember that being the exact second I lost it.

My fear was replaced with the insatiable desire for _more_ of this intoxicating feeling. Suddenly I didn’t care that Higuchi was thirty-something years my senior. I was dying for him to keep going, to usher me into his world. If this was a taste of how prostitution felt, then I was certain I could handle it for a while. And when I grew up and ran away again, that I’d do… I’d know exactly how to give it to Matt when I found him.

I let go of Higuchi and allowed him to fully disrobe me. He set me down on his bed and handled me passionately, yet gently. My elation charged the air around us. I felt as if Higuchi was breathing new life into me.

That night, I lost my virginity to the king of the Yotsuba group.


End file.
